To Be Beguil'd By One
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: After Bellatrix is expelled from school for relentlessly bullying her classmates, her parents throw her out of the family home. Shamed, desperate for employment and shelter, Bellatrix winds up working as a prostitute at the Dancing Doxy. That's where Lord Voldemort - still known to most of the Wizarding World as Tom Riddle - finds her and makes her his. Bellamort COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_November 1968_

"_Ungh__._" The man above Bellatrix grunted and groaned, and the bed creaked as he drilled into her. She let out a shaking breath and shut her eyes tightly as she waited for him to finish. She winced at the feel of his come leaching into her body, and she was abruptly grateful for the contraceptive spells and the charms against disease that she'd cast on herself before this encounter. Swithin Mulciber sighed as he hauled himself off of Bellatrix. The two of them started to dress, and Bellatrix reminded him,

"You're prepaid for seven sessions, sir, and this was number five. So you've still got two remaining."

"Excellent," said Mulciber. He flashed Bellatrix a smile that made her shiver. She'd known this man all her life; he was one of her father's friends.

Bellatrix had been expelled from Hogwarts in the spring of her fifth year for harassing and bullying two Gryffindor girls to the point of one running away from the school. Bellatrix had cursed the girls' textbooks to vomit on them in class. She'd hexed the girls to trip and fall down staircases. And Albus Dumbledore had personally seen to it that, at the end of his final term as Hogwarts' headmaster, Armando Dippet had expelled Bellatrix Black. She was a menace to her schoolmates, the wizards had said. She was disrespectful to teachers. She was cruel. She was vicious. She was an unrepentant and persistent bully. She was not welcome back for the autumn term, for her sixth year.

Bellatrix's parents had not taken the news well. The summer had been spent with Druella Black sobbing in bouts and Cygnus Black breaking quite a lot of things. Bellatrix had been slapped and scolded every single day. Finally, on the first of September, Andromeda and Narcissa had gone off to school again, and Bellatrix had been told that in three weeks' time, when her birthday came and she was of age, she was to leave the family home.

She'd done just that, but she reckoned her parents would not much care for the choice she'd made about where to go. Seeking refuge and knowing that nobody would virtuously employ a newly seventeen-year-old expelled school bully, Bellatrix went to the brothel in Knockturn Alley, the Dancing Doxy. She'd begged the madam to take her in, and she'd been shown a small room and taught the fundamental rules of working the customer base. Madam Sophie actually seemed quite glad to have Bellatrix. One of her girls had run off and gotten married, Madam Sophie said, and Bellatrix was young and fresh and pretty.

Bellatrix had not anticipated that most of her customers would be friends of her father's. It disgusted her, the way that the men she'd known growing up would lie atop her and take her body as though they hadn't been friendly with her parents. She didn't want any of them. But the pay was decent - enough for her to feed herself at the White Wyvern - and she had a bed in which to rest her head at night.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, Mr Mulciber," Bellatrix said now. She'd had this man five times in the six weeks she'd been working as a prostitute. He certainly seemed to like her. He'd purchased a seven-session package from Madam Sophie. It never took long. Mulciber was a quick fuck.

"You're always delicious, Miss Black," Mulciber replied. Bellatrix flashed him a little smile and Scoured her sheets, then Siphoned his come out of her body. She pulled up her blankets and tugged down the hem of her satin nightgown, and she said to him,

"I'll take you downstairs. Hope you have a good rest of the night."

He hesitated. He cleared his throat, his plump face still red, and he said, "You should go home."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open a little. "Did my father ask you to tell me that?"

"No." Mulciber huffed a breath. "Miss Black, I think your parents are devastated by -"

"If they wanted me at home, they would come and fetch me," she said in a prim voice, "or they never would have kicked me out. Mr Mulciber, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"No, there isn't." Mulciber opened the door that led into the corridor. Bellatrix walked with him down the creaky wooden stairs and through a smoky parlour where Old Joe was playing the upright piano. Bellatrix guided Mulciber over to Madam Sophie and said in a quiet tone,

"Mr Mulciber has two sessions remaining, Madam Sophie."

"Thank you. Good day, Mr Mulciber." Madam Sophie flashed a toothy grin as Mulciber walked out of the darkened entryway into the Dancing Doxy. On a leather chair, a wizard sat with Veronique, a French prostitute, giggling on his lap. Madam Sophie waited a moment, and then she said to Bellatrix,

"A masked wizard came in here asking specifically for you."

"Really?" Bellatrix chomped her lip. She followed Madam Sophie's gaze to where a figure in a dark hood sat. She could just make out that he was wearing a silver mask, and she frowned. It wasn't the first time they'd gotten a wizard in a mask. Sometimes men wore masks or hoods or both to protect their identity coming in here. But her curiosity was piqued. Who was it that wanted her specifically but did not wish to be known? She cleared her throat and asked Madam Sophie,

"Shall I negotiate with him?"

"Get a good price," said Madam Sophie. Bellatrix nodded. She steadied herself and stalked over to where the hooded figure sat. Old Joe began playing a spirited waltz on the piano, and Bellatrix smiled down to the man in his intimidating silver mask.

"Hello, sir. You asked for me?"

"Bellatrix." His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She frowned again, then quickly corrected her expression and sat in the chair beside him.

"What did you have in mind, sir?"

He stared at her for a very long moment, and she thought that he wouldn't answer. But then he said from under his mask,

"I want to touch you."

She smiled warmly and nodded. "Yes. Of course. You can touch."

"Allow me to clarify." He drummed his fingers on the leather arm on the chair. "I want to touch you until you come."

Bellatrix felt her eyebrows creep up. She hadn't had an orgasm in… well, it had been a long time. She'd been at school, and masturbating was more than a little difficult in the group dormitory setting. Then she'd been expelled, and she'd been stressed and fearful at home. Then she'd begun work as a prostitute, which meant loads of sex but no real pleasure. She did not suppose she had climaxed in months. She cleared her throat, feeling surprised by the wizard's request. She curled her lips up and admitted,

"That sounds very nice. And how shall I please you?"

"Touching you will bring me sufficient pleasure." His eyes were dark. She could see them through the holes in his mask. She could see his lips moving through a grate covering his mouth. She gulped, and he asked, "How much?"

"Oh. Erm…" Bellatrix looked up to see Madam Sophie glaring at her, evidently unhappy that negotiations were taking so long. Bellatrix didn't have schema for this. Nobody ever came in asking to pleasure the prostitutes. She let out a little nervous laugh and said, "Erm… ten Galleons."

The masked wizard tipped his head and tutted. "That will get you into trouble. Your time is worth more than that. What if it takes you a long time to come?"

Bellatrix grinned and demurred. "I won't… I'll try to…"

"I won't accept acting." The wizard shook his head. "I will pay for as long as it takes. Twenty Galleons."

"I don't think this is how negotiations are meant to work," Bellatrix laughed, but he sighed and pulled out a small bag of coins.

"This is twenty-five. Take it to your madam."

"Sir." Bellatrix stared at the bag in shock, but he pushed it at her, and she suddenly wondered what exactly he was going to try to do to her. A spike of fear went up her spine, but she took the bag and nodded her thanks. She walked over to where Madam Sophie sat at the bar, and she held out the bag of coins.

"Twenty-five Galleons," she announced, and Madam Sophie's eyes went round.

"Merlin's beard. Is he urinating on you or something?"

"No. He's… erm… he's going to touch me." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. "Until I finish."

Madam Sophie looked shocked. "Well, did you at least offer the man a drink on the house? Gracious, girl!"

"Sorry. Of course." Bellatrix hurried back over to the masked wizard and quickly asked, "May I get you some firewhisky or a -"

"I'd rather go upstairs now." He stood from his chair, and Bellatrix nodded. She led him to the stairs and slowly climbed them, feeling terribly anxious as she reached her door. She opened it and stepped inside, and she offered,

"May I take your cloak, sir? Your boots?"

"I'm fine." He kept his hood up and sank onto the edge of Bellatrix's bed. He studied it and seemed thoughtful for a moment. Bellatrix shut the door and locked it, and she grabbed her wand. She started casting protective charms on herself, but the wizard interjected, "You don't need those. I'm not going to be entering your body in any way."

"You certainly could, for what you paid," Bellatrix offered. He was silent. He dragged his fingers over the quilt on Bellatrix's bed, and he mused,

"I haven't been here in twenty years."

"Well. Welcome back, sir," Bellatrix smiled. He stared at her, and she studied his ornately carved silver mask. It was aggressive and beautiful at the same time. She tucked her hair behind her ear and asked, "Is there anything I can do for you? Erm… perhaps I could touch you or use my mouth on you? I want you to feel good."

"You're new at this," he guessed, and she shrugged, sinking her teeth into her lip.

"Sort of, yes. Is it that obvious?"

"You are eager to please," he noted. "When is the last time anyone pleased you?"

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she shook her head. "It isn't my job to receive pleasure. It's my job to give it."

"You have this job because you incessantly tortured two Gryffindor girls, and Albus Dumbledore saw an opportunity to rid himself of you," the wizard said. Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Her breath quickened, along with her heart.

"Who are you?" she whispered. "Another friend of my father's?"

"No, not really," the wizard said, shaking his head. "Just a person who keeps track of news. If you're going to be in a place like this, Bellatrix, the least you could do is enjoy it every now and then."

"I'm fine." Bellatrix bowed her head, desperate not to tear up. She blinked quickly and whispered again, "I'm fine."

"Swithin Mulciber was in here before me," the wizard said, and Bellatrix was going to ask how he knew that, but then she realised she'd walked Mulciber down into the parlour. The masked wizard guessed, "I can't imagine you enjoy your time with Swithin Mulciber all that terribly much."

"Are you going to spend your twenty-five Galleons' worth of time taunting me, sir?" Bellatrix snapped, looking up at him. He shook his head, reaching to stroke gently at her curls. He spoke in a quiet, easy voice then as he said,

"I am going to spend this time making you forget about your expulsion and your parents and the nature of your work. For just a few minutes, you're going to be happy again."

"Why?" Bellatrix whispered the word. She reached up to cover his fingers with hers. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," the wizard said, "you are not the sort of witch who deserves to be bogged down by the weight of Albus Dumbledore's smug victory. Someday you'll be something much, much greater than a whore in the Dancing Doxy, but if that's what you must be right now, then I mean to at least make it manageable."

She wondered again who he was, studying his eyes and lips through the mask. She couldn't place his features or his voice. She gulped and said,

"Tell me what to do, sir."

"Lie down on your back, Bellatrix." The wizard watched her as she sank down onto her pillows, sliding her knickers down and off. She balled them up beside her and shut her eyes.

Then she felt her legs being parted, and she felt his hands sliding up and down the insides of her thighs. She breathed in sharply and murmured,

"Your hands are rough."

"I apologise," he said, but she whispered,

"I like it."

He kept caressing her thighs and brushing his thumbs along the inner parts of her legs until at last Bellatrix felt wet and swollen. She usually used _Lubrico_ charms for sex with clients. She'd perfected the art of casting the charm nonverbally and surreptitiously so as not to embarrass the customer, but she was almost never wet enough on her own. She didn't want these men. But now, right now, she was wet. As his fingers stroked around the outsides of her entrance, she realised she was also extremely sensitised, for she'd had two clients tonight, and both had been rough with her.

"I do not wish to hurt you," murmured the masked wizard. Bellatrix hummed a little and insisted,

"I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but it isn't true," he noted. "_Allevio_ _Trio._"

Suddenly Bellatrix felt her aching pain soothed, and she huffed a breath of relief. She opened her eyes and stared up at the mask, up at his dark eyes. Who was he? She studied his eyes as his middle and forefingers dragged back and forth around her folds. His thumb started to draw circles on her clit, and she whimpered a little. She clutched her her sheets in a way she never did with clients, and she whispered,

"_Oh._ Erm… that feels… _oh_."

"Good." The wizard in the mask had a little shake in his voice now. His left hand drifted up to Bellatrix's breast, and he massaged her soft tissue through the material of her nightgown. She threw her head back against the pillow and pushed herself up onto her elbows. He dragged his thumb over her peaked nipple, and Bellatrix realised her nipples almost never got hard with clients. She gasped when he twisted two fingers into her body, hooking them as his thumb kept pressing and circling on her clit. She wrenched her eyes shut and moaned. She actually _moaned_ for a man who was paying her.

His breath was coming quick and ragged through the grate on his mask. He was excited. Bellatrix wanted him. She wanted him to take his cock out and put it into her. She wanted sex - _good_ sex. Why didn't he want that? She arched her back, and he squeezed at her breast in a way that made her cry out. His hand moved more deeply against her entrance, his fingers stroking and pulsing, his thumb pushing circles. She was going to lose herself, she thought. Everything was going hot and tight. Her ears were starting to ring. She was seeing spots behind her eyelids.

"_Oh, oh, oh._" She started to buck her hips against his hand, and when he tightened his fingers on her breast, she completely lost control. She snapped like a wire, suddenly feeling all the tension of the last few months detonate. She cried out so loudly that she worried distantly that someone would be concerned about an injury. She moaned helplessly through her body contracting around his fingers. She whined and whimpered as his hand moved from her breast to her cheek. She leaned against his hand and rolled her hips, coming down from her high and whispering,

"Oh, Merlin's beard."

He was panting now, and when he stood slowly from the bed, she watched him turn away and murmur a few Scouring and Siphoning spells. He was cleaning up his hand, she knew, from touching her. But she thought maybe he had a mess in his trousers, too, for he was adjusting himself and clearing his throat as he turned back to her. He nodded and said,

"I hope that was all right for you."

She grinned broadly, shaking her head as she slid her knickers on. "I'm meant to say that to you, not the other way round."

"Do you want more?" the wizard asked, and Bellatrix froze. She glanced back at the bed as she sat on the edge.

"Erm… what, right now?"

He laughed behind his mask. "No. Some other time. If I came back."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "You mean to repeatedly come here and pay twenty-five Galleons to pleasure me, sir?"

"Have you got a problem with that?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No. None at all."

"Good," he said. "I firmly believe that if your spirits are to be maintained, and your future potential preserved, you should be experiencing pleasure frequently among all of this madness and drudgery. I shall be back on Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" Bellatrix repeated. That was only four days from now. The wizard tipped his head and asked,

"Are you busy on Wednesday?"

"N-No. I'm… Wednesday would be grand. Thank you." Bellatrix chewed her lip and asked, "Are you certain there's nothing I can do to -"

"I am perfectly satisfied." The wizard reached for Bellatrix's left arm. She marveled as he picked up her forearm and examined the inside, dragging his thumb over the flesh there and whispering, "You'll be fine."

"Please, allow me to show you downstairs," Bellatrix offered. The two of them walked in silence down the stairs and into the parlour, and the wizard left without another word. She huffed and breath and watched the door as he went.

"Bellatrix!" hissed a voice from beside her. Bellatrix jolted and flashed a little smile to Marian, another of the whores. She was tall and thin with kinky curls like Bellatrix's, only hers were blonde. Marian stared at Bellatrix with bug eyes and demanded, "Is it true? Did a wizard really come in here and pay twenty-five Galleons to pleasure you?"

"Yes." Bellatrix smirked.

"Ah! I am so jealous!" Marian scoffed. "So. How was he? Did he know what he was doing?"

"Oh, yes. He knew what he was doing." Bellatrix shut her eyes and shivered a little as she remembered his hand on her breast, his fingers on her, the way he'd soothed her ache and the way he'd caressed her arm afterward. She let out a little noise and told Marian. "It was _so_ good."

Marian stared in open-mouthed shock at Bellatrix. "You unimaginable wench," she said playfully. "Getting paid like that to lie there and come. My goodness. I wonder who it was."

"I've honestly got no idea," Bellatrix said, "but I like him. I like him quite a lot."

"Bellatrix!" Madam Sophie's voice rang through the parlour. Bellatrix whirled round and saw a fat, ugly man standing beside Madam Sophie, who was beckoning. Bellatrix gulped, feeling sour bile rise in her mouth as she resolved to get back to work.

**Author's Note: For readers of **_**What Alters When It Alteration Finds - **_**The last chapter of that story will be going up tomorrow. I absolutely had to get Chapter 1 of this written and posted.**

**I hope you will join me on this new novel-length Bellamort story! I am very much looking forward to it! It's something **_**totally**_ **different from what I've written before, and I'm looking forward to exploring this new dynamic - a completely different parent/child relationship with Bellatrix/Druella/Cygnus, a very different Bellamort dynamic, a radically altered start to Bellatrix's Death Eater career, etc.**

**Thank you for reading and for feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2

"So, Bellatrix. Tell us all about it." Marian spooned lamb stew into her mouth at the table in the White Wyvern. Bellatrix demurred and shook her head.

"What's there to tell? You know what he did to me."

"Yes. 'E gave you an orgasm and paid you for your trouble," giggled Veronique, the recent Beauxbatons graduate who had run off to England on a rebel streak. Bellatrix shrugged.

"He seems like a good man."

"He's so tall. Is he handsome?" asked Marian, and Bellatrix admitted,

"I don't know."

"What, he he doesn't take zat mask off?" Veronique scoffed, and Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, he doesn't."

"Hi there, girls," said a voice, and another of the prostitutes, Clare, came ambling up to the table. She was an Irish witch with pretty auburn hair and freckles scattered over her round cheeks. Clare handed envelopes to Bellatrix and Veronique and said, "Owls just came to the Doxy with letters for you two. Miss! I'll take some of the lamb stew and a Butterbeer. Thanks a million."

She sat down in a huff, and as Veronique opened her elegant powder blue envelope, Clare asked,

"Veronique, does your family in France know what you do here?"

"Ha! No." Veronique pulled out a card from her envelope and said, "Zey think I work in a shop. I give zem ze least amount of detail I can."

"Who's your letter from, then, Bellatrix?" Clare asked curiously as her stew and Butterbeer arrived. Bellatrix's stomach sank. She studied her envelope and immediately recognised her mother's writing on the outside. She cleared her throat and said,

"It's from my parents. Will you all excuse me?"

"Of course," Marian said in a soft voice. Bellatrix stood, plunking down a few Sickles on the table to pay for her food and drink, and she walked away to a secluded corner of the pub with her envelope. She opened it and pulled out the letter inside, which read,

_Bellatrix,_

_We have received word __that __you have become a whore in the brothel in __Knockturn_ _Alley. How we could ever lay eyes upon you, much less speak to you or embrace you, after you have so debased yourself and humiliated our noble family, we do not understand. It is not possible. You are no longer our daughter; it is as simple as that. You are never again welcome in our home. Do not send contact._

_Cygnus Black III and Druella Black_

Bellatrix's eyes seared like fire as she read the letter a second and third time. She wasn't the first whore to receive a letter from her parents disowning her, she thought. Others had been here before her. But it still hurt, badly. She gulped and read the letter once more, then crumpled it up and pulled out her wand to Vanish it.

Hours later, she walked Swithin Mulciber up to her room and shut the door. She could not help but glare at him. She knew it had been him to talk to her parents. She just knew. Of all her parents' friends who came through here, Mulciber seemed like the one most likely to squeal to Cygnus. Bellatrix stared daggers into Mulciber's back as he stripped off his robes, and she peeled off her nightgown and cast protective spells upon her body. No pregnancy. No disease. She would shield herself from any real consequences of sex with her father's friend. She climbed onto her bed, but then Swithin Mulciber said smoothly,

"Not on the bed tonight, love; I want to try something different."

"Oh." Bellatrix climbed back off and nodded. "What did you have in mind, sir?"

He flashed her a devilish smirk and said, "On your knees."

"All right." Bellatrix sank down before him. She was not looking forward to this. She had used her mouth on wizards before, and she never enjoyed it. They usually tasted and smelled like sweat. Sometimes she would get a stray pubic hair in her mouth. Come tasted like coins dropped into sour milk. It was all a revolting process. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad with a man she craved, but under these circumstances with old wizards for whom she had no desire, Bellatrix despised oral sex. Just the same, she put herself on her knees before Swithin Mulciber and wrapped her fingers around his rather small cock.

"No," he barked. "Hands behind your back."

"Yes, sir," Bellatrix murmured, and she clasped her hands together at the small of her back. She stared up at Mulciber and waited for instruction. He curled up his lips and snarled,

"Crack open that mouth of yours."

Bellatrix scowled at the floor. She did not like being spoken to like that. She was working this job out of desperation, but she did not like being made to feel like an object. She steadied herself and reminded her swirling mind that Swithin Mulciber had paid for a session of sex of any variety. She raised her face and opened her mouth, and then she gasped. Mulciber shoved his cock roughly into her mouth, so hard that he jabbed the back of her throat and choked her. He seemed to like that, so he did it again. He pounded her mouth then, as hard as he could. Bellatrix felt tears start to stream down her cheeks as she gagged and spluttered. Mulciber was enjoying this; he liked the way she was choking on him. He buried himself down her throat until she almost vomited, and then he came with a loud groan and a few grunts. Bellatrix was sick in her mouth as his bitter, horrid come leaked down her throat. She wrenched her eyes shut and swallowed the best she could. At some point, it was over. Eventually, Mulciber pulled his clothes back on and sighed happily.

Bellatrix rose on shaky legs and pulled on her knickers and nightgown. She reached for her wand with a trembling hand and Scoured her mouth, casting a Peppermint Fresh Charm to get rid of the taste and smell of him. She gulped, feeling an awful, sore scratch in her throat when she did. She sniffled, and Mulciber noted,

"Your face is red and puffy. Best fix that so your madam isn't upset."

"Oh. Right. _Blancha._" Bellatrix aimed her wand at her own face. As Mulciber did up the buttons on his trousers, she found the courage to ask in a rather bold voice, "Did you tell my father that you had been physical with me, or did you just tell him that you'd seen me here?"

Mulciber smirked again. He adjusted his trousers and shrugged. "I gave him the least amount of painful information that I could. I'm seeing him tomorrow. Is there something you'd like me to pass along?"

"Oh, no. Thank you." Bellatrix scoffed. "My parents made it quite plain that I am never to contact them again."

"Sorry to hear that." Swithin Mulciber did not sound very sorry. He headed for the door. "I enjoyed this tonight, Bellatrix. We'll have to do this again sometime soon. You're a lovely little girl, aren't you?"

Bellatrix said nothing to that. Bile rose in her throat, and she just walked downstairs with Mulciber as she sniffled again. She walked him over to the door and wished him a goodnight, and once he'd gone, she heard Madam Sophie say from behind her,

"Bellatrix? There is a gentleman here who's been waiting patiently for you."

Bellatrix turned and followed Madam Sophie's eyes. The hooded, masked man who had promised to come back and give her pleasure was sitting in the same leather chair where he'd been the last time he'd come. Bellatrix. nodded at Madam Sophie and said,

"I'll get a good price."

"He's paid already," Madam Sophie said lightly. "Go to him, girl."

"Yes, Madam." Bellatrix's stomach fluttered a little. She walked over to the chair where the wizard sat, and she folded her hands before her as she approached.

"Hello, sir," she said in the most friendly tone she could manage. "So good to see you again."

He stared up at her, his dark eyes glinting through his mask. Bellatrix felt a little quiver inside her mind, an odd press in her thoughts. She shook off the feeling and asked,

"How are you tonight?"

"You've been crying," he noted, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Was she that obvious? She shook her head.

"I'm fine. Would you like a drink?"

"What did Swithin Mulciber do to you?" the wizard demanded. Bellatrix chomped her lip and then forced an awkward laugh.

"Nothing he didn't pay for. Perhaps some firewhisky?"

"I've got a mask on," the wizard reminded her tightly, and Bellatrix just gulped.

"I could ask the bartender for a metal straw," she suggested, but he shook his head and said,

"I'd like to go upstairs now."

"Yes, of course." Bellatrix held her hand out to him, but he just stood and stared down at her. He seemed ill at ease.

"Are you hurt?" he inquired, and Bellatrix felt her eyes well.

"No," she insisted. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"All right. Let's go." He started for the stairs, and Bellatrix walked with him up to her room. She opened the door and led him inside. She shut the door and was about to ask if she could take his cloak, but he quickly backed her up against the door. She felt trapped, all of a sudden, as he stared down at her, his mask shining in the light of the sconce. Bellatrix felt that itching press in her mind, stronger now than before. She winced as the memory of Mulciber fucking her throat was yanked forward, playing out obnoxiously on the backs of her closed eyelids. After the visual of the encounter was over, Bellatrix opened her eyes and felt the sensation of invasion in her mind fade. She stared at the wizard in the mask and whispered,

"You're a Legilimens."

"Yes, I am," he confirmed. He brushed his knuckles over her throat and used expert wandless magic then. "_Allevio_ _Trio. __Allevio_ _Maxima._ _Episkey_."

Bellatrix felt the sting and tightness from Mulciber's actions fade away. Her throat felt much better now, and all of a sudden she found herself experiencing a profound craving for the man in the mask. She gazed up at him, at his dark eyes, and she hummed,

"Thank you, sir."

"I heard a rumour about you." He slid his fingertips up the inside of her thigh, and Bellatrix flattened her palms against the door. She felt him hook his thumb into the waistband of her knickers and pull them down. She wriggled them down and kicked them away.

"What rumour did you hear?" she asked. He reached around to her backside and squeezed a little at the cheek there. She tipped her head back a bit and felt herself flush wet. He answered her,

"I heard that you hexed a girl bald, and it took them a week to restore her hair. Is it true?"

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered. She was shocked then to see the white glint of teeth behind the grate of his mask, and she laughed. "You're smiling. You're amused by this story. Are you wicked like me?"  
"Maybe I am." The man touched his fingers between her legs. The pads of his fingers caressed the folds of her womanhood, sliding over the slick tissue as he pressed and circled on her clit. Bellatrix clawed her hands on the door and mumbled,

"That feels good. You like the idea of me hexing people, sir?"

"Maybe I do." He pushed two, then three fingers into Bellatrix. His thumb worked her clit, and his left arm circled around her and held the small of her back. He stood quite close, and Bellatrix instinctively reached out through his open robe for his trousers.

"Let me return the favour," she suggested, but he huffed back,

"No. I am not like the others. You have had more than enough of wizards' anatomy for one night."

"Please. I want you to feel good," She was whining now, writhing against the door as his fingers pumped and his thumb circled. His left hand cinched on her back, and she gasped. He told her,

"Some other time, perhaps. Anyway, I didn't pay for that; I paid to touch you."

"I wouldn't tell," Bellatrix breathed, and the man coughed a laugh.

"You," he murmured, "are a hopeless rule-breaker."

"Yes, I am." Bellatrix grinned up at him, and he tipped his head.

"I like rule-breakers."

She was going to lose herself again, she thought. He kept touching her for another few minutes, and she was helpless against the door. She slapped the wood, moaning loudly, gasping, licking her lip, bucking her hips. When she came, trembling with her knees giving out, she cried out so loudly that she was sure people must be listening. He was close to her now, so close that she could smell the sea on him. She grasped frantically at the black leather tunic under his robe. As she came, she squeezed hard at the tunic and touched her forehead to his chest. His breath was echoing inside his mask, and he seemed awfully aroused as he let out little, low sounds. Finally, he pulled his hands from Bellatrix, and she released his tunic. She quickly reached for her knickers and gulped. She'd liked that so much. Far too much. How was she getting paid for _that?_

"Please tell me how I can give you satisfaction," Bellatrix begged, but the man in the mask pulled his wand out and cleaned up his hand and said,

"I am satisfied." He tucked his wand away, and Bellatrix spied a mighty bulge of an erection in his trousers. She frowned and suggested,

"I could quickly touch -"

"Perhaps on a night when you weren't treated the way Mulciber treated you. Hm?" The wizard in the mask let out a long huff of a breath. He pulled at the hem of his tunic, and then Bellatrix realised just how rumpled she'd made it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. She dashed to him and started to smooth the leather. "I didn't mean to grab you; I do apologise, sir."

"Bellatrix. Take a breath. Take three or four breaths." The wizard covered her hands with his and looked down at her. She stared up at his silver mask, bathed in golden light from the lantern, and she examined his dark eyes. Who _was_ he? Why did he care about her hexing skills, about her happiness? Who was this man? Suddenly he was pulling her right hand over a little bit, and he was urging her left hand up onto his shoulder. She frowned, confused, until his right hand went to her waist and she realised they were in a dancing stance. She laughed a bit as they began to sway.

"Do you like to dance?" he asked her, and she shrugged.

"I dunno. I… I haven't had many opportunities," she said. "Besides, I've been a bit busy hexing people and getting in trouble. No time for dancing. How about you, sir? Do you like dancing?"

"I've been a bit busy, too." She could tell from his eyes that he was smiling down at her. They were crinkled, and she knew his lips must be curled up. She swayed a bit more enthusiastically with him, and he told her, "I do like dancing. I enjoy it when I have an excuse."

"But we haven't got any music right now," Bellatrix pointed out.

"No, we haven't. That's all right." The wizard in the mask brushed his thumb over hers and tightened his hand on her waist a bit. Bellatrix was lost all of a sudden. She wanted to sink into him, to put her head against his chest like she'd done when she was up against the door. She squeezed his hand and whispered,

"Will you be back sometime?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Thinking through my schedule, erm… Sunday. I'll be back on Sunday."

Bellatrix stumbled a little in her dance steps, and the wizard hesitated before asking,

"Something wrong with Sunday?"

"It's just… that's my day off. I don't work Sundays. But I'll see if someone can trade with me, or they'll give you someone else, or -"

"No." He shook his head quite firmly. "I'll come Monday."

"Or Saturday," Bellatrix said, far too eagerly. The wizard laughed, a low rumble, and he asked,

"Would it make you happier if I came on Saturday?"

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me." Bellatrix stopped dancing then. The man in the mask shook his head.

"I shall come on Saturday. I don't mind."

"Perhaps I could touch you then," Bellatrix suggested, and she heard him suck in a breath.

"You don't have to do that," he said. She insisted,

"I'd like to do it."

"Well. Perhaps I'll work something out with your madam," he told her. "For now, I ought to go downstairs. I've taken far too much of your time now; she'll be cross."

"I wish you did not have to go," Bellatrix said, realising at once that she sounded cloying. But she would far rather dance with this wizard, swaying with no music after he'd brought her to a climax, than be with the next man to take her. Her eyes burned ferociously. Suddenly the masked wizard's hand was on her cheek, and she looked up at him as he cupped her jaw.

"You're going to be fine," he told her in a reassuring tone. "Someday, you are going to be so much more than all of this. I have confidence in you."

"Have you?" Bellatrix felt one tear creep out of her eye. She remembered the letter her parents had sent her, telling her never to come home, never to contact them again. She remembered what Swithin Mulciber had done to her mouth earlier, the way he'd smirked at her about her father, the way he'd treated her body. And Bellatrix leaned against the hand of the wizard in the mask, willing him to stay, thinking of how he'd touched her against the door, of how he'd healed her throat, the way he'd danced with her with no music at all.

For a long moment, they just stood there, her tear dripping onto his knuckle as he stroked her face. He kept whispering that she was going to be fine, that she was strong, stronger than all of this. Bellatrix finally sniffed and nodded, and she made a move for her wand.

"_Blancha_," she incanted, for the second time tonight. She felt her puffy eyes go down, and she set her wand on the table beside her bed as she cleared her throat and said to the man in the mask, "Shall I walk you downstairs?"

It wasn't until hours later, long after he'd gone and she'd had one more customer and had bathed and put herself to bed, that Bellatrix shut her eyes and dreamed of him. She dreamed of his mask, of his fingers, of the smell of him.

And then she dreamed of something else.

She dreamed of a party three years earlier, when she'd been a foolish girl in awe of a wizard newly arrived from the Continent. Bellatrix jolted awake. She recognised the voice. She recognised the dark eyes. She knew him. She remembered him now. She gasped in the darkness of her bedroom, finally knowing just who the wizard in the mask was.

**Author's Note: So, Bellatrix has ****finally ****figured out ****that ****it's Tom Riddle/Voldemort. How will she tell him? How will he react? And what was worse ****-** **Bellatrix's parents ****completely ****disowning her or Mulciber treating Bellatrix the way he did? **

**I PROMISSSSE to finish **_**What Alters When It Alteration Finds**_ **ASAP. This story ****started burning** **a hole in my brain right in the middle of me being very busy. I will ****definitely ****finish that story off as soon as I can. Thanks for your patience.**

**I appreciate you reading this story and would love your thoughts.**


	3. Chapter 3

Bellatrix spent the next three days wondering how the blazes she was meant to cope with the fact that she knew her masked customer was Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort. _For days, she'd sit in the bath or lie in her bed and contemplate just who he was, and she would shiver. She couldn't quite grasp what it meant for him to be… _him_. On Saturday, she knew he'd be coming at some point, and she struggled through sex with Yeoman Yaxley before heading downstairs and sending him on her way. She was about to look around for him, for the man she now knew was Tom Riddle. Suddenly she heard a slurred voice say,

"Bellatrix Black! By my blooming eyes."

She whirled to see Miles Selwyn, a nineteen-year-old wizard who had been a few years ahead of Bellatrix in Slytherin, standing with a drink in his hand. He was quite evidently drunk, probably having come here from the White Wyvern, and he set his drink on the bar.

"Hello, Miles," Bellatrix said softly. Miles Selwyn grinned and walked toward her.

"Isn't she lovely?" he bellowed. "And here I didn't believe it. Thought it was just a nasty rumour you were here, lovely Bellatrix. But here you are! And I'd like a sample. How much for you?"

"Sorry, Miles," Bellatrix said, forcing a little smile. "I've got someone waiting."

"I saw you first," he drawled, and he snatched at Bellatrix's left wrist. He was so rough, and Bellatrix gasped. She wrenched her arm away, but Miles tightened his grasp, squeezing until Bellatrix perceived a little _pop_ and heard a nasty sound. She cried out and writhed.

"Let go!" she exclaimed. She saw Madam Sophie get off her bar stool, but the hooded, masked figure of Tom Riddle appeared at the scene first.

"I want you tonight, Bellatrix," Miles Selwyn huffed, "and you'll have me."

"Release her at once," said Mr Riddle from behind his mask. Bellatrix shut her eyes and pulled away again, but Miles yanked at her, squeezing so hard that Bellatrix sensed her wrist pop again. She nearly screamed in pain, and then her ears rang.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Miles asked Mr Riddle.

"Mr Selwyn," said Madam Sophie in a calm tone, "Let's find you another young lady to -"

"I want this one," Miles insisted, squeezing again. Bellatrix whimpered in agony, and then Mr Riddle declared,

"Enough. _Stupefy!_"

Bellatrix sucked in air hard as Miles Selwyn soared backward and socked into the wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious, and Madam Sophie immediately scolded,

"Sir! You've knocked out a customer of mine! I won't have violence in my brothel."

"You already had violence in your brothel," Mr Riddle snarled. "One of your girls was being viciously assaulted; do you permit that?"

"Bellatrix, get your arm healed up with some spells and take the rest of the night off," Madam Sophie said in a tight tone. "Sir, we'll get you another girl to please you. I apologise for this grand spectacle."

"I'll go upstairs with her," Mr Riddle said, walking up to Bellatrix and studying her injured wrist from a slight distance.

"I will not work her tonight," Madam Sophie explained, "but I've a lovely French witch, Veronique, who will -"

"I'm certain that Veronique is lovely," Mr Riddle said. "Keep my money. I will go upstairs with Bellatrix and see that her wrist is healed up properly and that she's all right. I won't overstay."

Bellatrix stared at his mask and marveled. This man would pay her madam money so he might stay here and heal up Bellatrix? Was he real? Was he a real man, this Tom Riddle?

"Well, get off the floor, Bellatrix, whatever you do; I can't have you standing here all swollen with a Stupefied customer who will wake up angry. Go. Get. You'll work tomorrow."

"You ought to ban that Selwyn fellow from the premises." Mr Riddle put his hand behind Bellatrix's back and drew her toward the stairs. He turned and said to Madam Sophie, "When he wakes up, you ought to boot him out and never let him in again. Injuring one of your witches like this."

"Right. Thank you, sir." Madam Sophie touched at her forehead, looking distressed at the mess she was facing. She had one well-paying repeat customer who had Stupefied a drunkard that had assaulted one of her whores. A madam's job was messy, Bellatrix appreciated. She climbed the stairs and cradled her arm, and when they reached her room, Mr Riddle pushed it open. She walked inside with him, and as he sat on the edge of her bed, she said to him,

"Thank you so much for helping me, sir. For getting him off of me. For agreeing to come up here to heal my arm. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in this left forearm," Mr Riddle mused, and Bellatrix frowned a little in confusion. He carefully drew her arm toward him, and she winced and seethed in pain as he did. It hurt so profoundly, so hideously, and it was obviously already swelling up and bruising.

"Is it broken?" she asked him. He shook his head and dragged his wand along it.

"No. My diagnostic spells aren't showing a break. But you've got a nasty sprain. You should wear it in a splint overnight and tomorrow whilst the _Ferula _spell does its work. I'll cast some painkilling charms and a few other healing spells."

"Thank you," Bellatrix murmured. She observed with interest as his spells, as a brace was Conjured round her wrist. It was now stable and far less painful, and she smiled at him where she stood between his legs. He looked up at her and asked through his mask,

"Better?"

"I know who you are," Bellatrix answered impulsively. He was silent for a moment. His dark eyes blinked inside his mask, and he finally said,

"You do, do you?"

"I had a dream," Bellatrix explained. She took a step nearer to him and let her arms fall to her sides. "I dreamed of a party three years ago, a New Year's Eve party at Malfoy Manor. There was a guest there, newly returned to England after years spent on the Continent. He was a Half-Blood, my parents told me, a man they'd known in school. He'd always gone home to a Muggle orphanage. But he was incredibly powerful, and not to be crossed. I was intrigued. So was my sister, Andromeda."

Mr Riddle sighed and put his hands on Bellatrix's waist. She shut her eyes and breathed in the sensation of him touching her. She absorbed his touch, and she opened her eyes. She continued,

"My sister dared me to ask this mysterious man, Tom Riddle - who was calling himself _Lord Voldemort_ \- for a dance. And so I did. Brave, stupid little girl that I was, I marched right on up to him and asked him to dance. And he said yes. So we danced. I was clumsy. He was not. He asked me about school; he was exceedingly polite."

"You woke up from your dream and remembered my voice," Mr Riddle guessed, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Your voice and your eyes." She brushed her fingers over his mask. "Perhaps it was dancing with no music that reminded me."

"Perhaps it was," he said. He reached up and peeled off his mask. There was a strange puff of black smoke between his skin and the metal when he did, as though the mask had been adhered to his flesh with strong magic. He set the mask beside him, and he peeled back his hood. He gazed up at Bellatrix, and her breath left her for a moment.

He was meant to be just a few years older than her parents, if they'd told her correctly. So he was in his early forties. But he looked aged far beyond that, with fine lines in his skin and deeper wrinkles in his forehead and around his nose and lips. His eyes looked tired, almost blurry, and were the chocolate brown she remembered. His lips were thin, pinched into a line, with a jagged white scar running along one side. Somehow, Bellatrix still found him handsome. She should not, she told herself. He was old, and he was aged and weary-looking.

But Bellatrix couldn't help liking his face. She couldn't help mentally rehashing the way he had touched her on the bed, the way he'd touched her against the wall, the way he had danced with her with no music at all. As she stared at his face and thought of all that, she wanted him badly, and she reached for the leather tunic she'd crumpled the last time he'd been here. She brushed her fingers over it, the fingers of her good right hand, and she murmured,

"Tell me why you are here, Mr Riddle."

"I am here," he said in a quiet voice, his hands going back to her waist, "because Albus Dumbledore had you expelled from school for doing just the sort of thing I want you to do for me someday."

"For you?" Bellatrix's mouth fell open. "For Lord Voldemort, you mean."

"For me," he repeated. "For Lord Voldemort."

"What exactly is it you want me to do for you? You want me to bully people for you?" Bellatrix asked, and he curled up half his mouth as he said,

"I want you to use the natural ruthlessness you possess, the skill and bravery you possess, to help me advance my movement. That is what I want."

"Well. Right now I'm trapped in a brothel. I lie under men as they…" Bellatrix trailed off. He knew what she did. He looked up at her, reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, and nodded.

"I'm not as influential yet as I aim to be. As soon as I can, I mean to get you out of this place. I intend to implement you in my movement as a… a…"

"A soldier?" Bellatrix smirked, and Tom Riddle smiled as he shut his eyes. His fingers stilled near her ear, and he whispered,

"A soldier. Wouldn't that be something?"

"You want to put Muggles in their place. You told me so when we danced three years ago." Bellatrix reached to cover his hand with hers. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles and waited for him to open his eyes and meet her gaze. She nodded. "You said, _I mean for __wizarding_ _society to achieve its balance, with Muggles and Mudbloods under the boots of those whom magic has __properly __touched._ Those were your words."

"You've a keen memory," he noted, "for someone who was unable to place my voice."

"I remember you well now," she said. "The mask confused me, but now it all makes sense. I ought to have realised it the second we danced; it felt exactly the same."

"You were just a little girl." He shook his head. "A gangly, rather obnoxious flit of a thing. You admitted that your sister had dared you to ask me to dance. Still, I liked how bold you were. I saw your potential, even then. I admired your gumption."

Bellatrix brought his hand down from her face and kissed at his knuckles. She wondered if he minded her doing that, but he did not seem to object. In fact, his eyes widened, and his lips parted just a bit, and when she took a half step closer to him, his other hand touched at the small of her back. Bellatrix huffed a breath and pointed out,

"You've touched me to completion. Twice now."

"I heard that you were here, and I worried," he said. "I feared they would break your spirit into a million pieces if you were deserted here, left to wallow in profound unhappiness. That girl I'd seen, the one with all the potential, would be shattered. So I resolved to come here sometimes and try to make you a little happy, so that as soon as I possessed the ability to free you from this arrangement, you would still be that wild and wicked girl who made me smile."

Bellatrix was breathless then. She was patently unable to fill her lungs with air. Her eyes burned like fire as she stepped closer than ever to him. She felt his fingers cinch on her back, and she squeezed at his hand. She whispered,

"You are nothing like the others, Mr Riddle."

He shook his head. "My goals with you are notably different. I aim for your happiness, so you might stay sharp and audacious. I aim for your satisfaction so that your time here is not all bleak and dour. I only hope that my visits have given you some measure of… of…"

His bottom lip was shaking now, she saw. She was staring down at him, though she was barely above him because she was quite short and he was sitting on the edge of her high bed. Her face was so near his now, she thought. The smell of peppermint from his breath filled her nostrils. She leaned toward him and whispered,

"I have never, ever kissed a wizard."

He scoffed gently and stroked at her hand with his. He murmured,

"I find that very difficult to believe."

"It's true," she insisted. "Nobody at school wanted to kiss me; nobody much liked me because I was foul-spirited. I had no friends, and none of the boys wanted to approach me then. And here, it isn't allowed. It's strictly against the rules, no matter how much a man pays. It crosses a line, Madam Sophie says. It's too intimate, too emotional, to kiss a wizard, so we aren't allowed to do it. I've been made to take a cock up my backside, and I've had to lie under a man who reeked of Bubotuber Pus whilst he jiggled and moaned. I have never kissed a wizard, though."

"And what would Madam Sophie say if you did?" Mr Riddle asked. "It is, after all, against the rules."

"I do not much care for rules," Bellatrix hummed. She slid up against him and brushed her lips onto his, gasping. "Please, Mr Riddle?"

"Bellatrix." He released her hand and her back and put both of his hands on her cheeks, pulling her down onto his mouth. She let out a little sound at once, halfway between a yelp and a moan. Her own fingers flew to his leather tunic, bunching it like she'd done a few days earlier. He did not protest. Instead he nibbled at her bottom lip and pressed his tongue against her, urging her mouth open. She let him in at once, squeezing her eyes shut and whimpering with surprised want when he invaded her mouth. His tongue was steady and sure, as though he seriously knew what he was doing. He traced the roof of her mouth and then tangled his tongue with hers, pulling both of their tongues back into his mouth. Bellatrix let him dance their tongues together in an elegant pavane, then licked and suckled at his bottom lip like he'd done for her. Finally, the kiss broke, and when she pulled back, his fingers were trembling on her jaws. She stared at him, wide-eyed with bruised lips, and she licked at the taste of him. She sighed and released his tunic, whispering,

"Thank you."

"I was not expecting to desire you," Mr Riddle said, and his cheeks flushed. Speckled red patches appeared on his milky flesh, and it was obvious he was embarrassed. She touched at his warm cheek as he continued, "I started coming here, Bellatrix, to soothe you. To comfort you in this situation so you would be maintained in your potential. I came here to preserve the witch I wanted for my movement. I did not expect to begin experiencing desire."

"But now you do feel it?" she prompted him, hoping desperately that he would say yes. He blinked thrice and looked to the sconce. Then he mumbled,

"I almost came here yesterday instead of today. I became impatient."

Bellatrix grinned and stroked at his cheek as she reminded him, "You are welcome here whenever you like, Mr Riddle."

"For a price," he hissed. He flicked his eyes back to her. "Your time is valuable. I can buy only windows and pockets of it, and my visit is squeezed between those of men who use your flesh like a toy."

Bellatrix was hurt all of a sudden. Her eyes went heavy and burned, and she shrugged.

"You're not like them," she insisted. "You are nothing like Swithin Mulciber or Yeoman Yaxley or Miles Selwyn. You're nothing like those wizards. Your visits make me happy, just as you want them to do."

"You've broken the rules again. You can't seem to follow rules anywhere," said Mr Riddle, almost cruelly. He glared up at Bellatrix and said, "You got expelled from school and got disowned by your parents for breaking rules. Now you've broken your madam's rule about kissing customers."

"You don't seem like a customer," Bellatrix protested, and he tipped his head.

"I paid for the privilege of sitting on this bed and splinting your wrist up for you. Kissing was not included."

Bellatrix scowled. Why was he being so suddenly mean? She shook her head, knowing that Madam Sophie had given her the rest of the night off owing to the way Miles Selwyn had assaulted her and injured her wrist. She cleared her throat and stepped back from Mr Riddle. She shrugged a bit and said,

"You can go ahead and put your mask on, sir, and I shall show you downstairs. I assure you that my wrist will be just fine. Thank you so much for splinting it and putting painkilling and anti-inflammatory charms upon it. I am grateful for your assistance. And grateful that you visited again tonight. Good to see you. As always."

Mr Riddle stood, his mask in his hand. He hesitated as Bellatrix headed for the door. She was about to reach for it when his fingers wrapped around her right wrist and pulled her back. She gasped, whirling toward him, and found herself swept up in his arms. He pulled her close and bent, crushing her mouth with his in a kiss that was far more insistent and aggressive than the first one had been. Bellatrix hummed onto his lips, reaching up and holding fast to his robe. She tried as hard as she could not to grab at his tunic again. He rubbed at her back and kissed her deeply, his lips and tongue firm. She arched her back a little and pushed herself against him, and when at last he broke the kiss, she felt profoundly dizzy.

"Hopeless little rule-breaker," he puffed, sounding aroused, "do not ever change, not a single part of you."

"Oh." Bellatrix was emotional at that, for some reason. She stared up at his dark eyes, the eyes that she'd remembered so vividly once she'd dreamed of dancing with him. She studied his face and promised him,

"I shall be in your movement. As soon as you can get me out of here."

"Good girl," he nodded. "When shall I come back?"  
"Tomorrow," she giggled, but he tipped his head and argued,

"You are going to bankrupt me."

"Oh, very well. Erm… Tuesday?"

He frowned. "I'm going to Paris Tuesday morning to meet with someone regarding funding. I won't be back until lunch on Wednesday. How about Wednesday night?"

"Wednesday night." Bellatrix nodded and then asked, "When are you going to let me touch you?"

He smirked. "When you actually want to do it."

"So, tonight, then," she huffed, and he shut his eyes.

"Wednesday," he promised. "Wednesday night."

He bent to kiss her again, more gently this time, and Bellatrix let out a low, sibilant sound onto his lips.

"Thank you for healing me. And for Stupefying Selwyn."

"I'm sorry you were hurt," he said. "Be well until Wednesday, hm?"

When she showed him out, it physically hurt to part with him. The other girls fretted over Bellatrix's splinted wrist and marveled at the way the masked wizard had rescued her and spent time healing her. She had an admirer, they all said, a customer who truly liked her. They pitied her for getting hurt, but they were terribly jealous of what she had happening with the wizard in the mask.

She didn't tell them that he was Tom Riddle. She didn't tell them that he was Lord Voldemort. How could she? She could scarcely process that knowledge herself. He was an aspirational Half-Blood who had a budding political movement taking shape. He was known to be terribly skilled with magic, charismatic, and wildly intelligent. And, at least according to Bellatrix, he was fantastically desirable.

Later that night, she lay in her bed with her splinted left arm limp at her side, and she thought of kissing him. She thought of dancing with him in silence. She thought of him bringing her to climaxes with his fingers. She thought of him telling her that the reason he'd come here at all was because of her personality and skill, that he wanted to keep her sane and happy so that someday she could be his protege.

She dreamed of him again that night. This time, she dreamed of her fingers upon his manhood, of riding him, of him kissing her until her lips were swollen. When she woke in a sheen of sweat, flush with desire, she suddenly knew that she didn't care what the rules were.

She wanted Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort _\- and she wanted him badly.

**Author's Note: Well, ****hopefully Madam** **Sophie gives Miles Selwyn a lifetime ban from the ****Dancing** **Doxy, huh? Jerk. If you've read my stories before, you know that nothing stays peachy keen for a long time, so raise your hand if you ****think** **something might occur to prevent a happy-go-lucky lemon with his next visit on Wednesday. But, hey, at least she knows who he is and knows that he's trying to groom her for participation in her movement, right? So we're making progress!**

**As always, I so appreciate your readership and feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

On Wednesday, Bellatrix sat at the White Wyvern, eating a meal lost somewhere between lunch and dinner with the other girls. The food today was beef and peas and carrots in a pie crust, but it was utterly devoid of flavour.

"Anyone ever master cooking spells?" Bellatrix asked. "This is in dire need of garlic or onion. Or salt. Pepper. Something."

Marian laughed a little and said, "We never had a House-Elf. Couldn't afford one. My mum always cooked wonderfully, but she never taught me. 'Fraid I'm useless."

"I am ze worst French witch zat ever lived," lamented Veronique. "I wouldn't know 'ow to make bread, much less 'ow to season with garlic or salt."

"Well, it's bland pie for all of us, then," Bellatrix shrugged. She stabbed her spoon into her pie and brought some beef to her mouth. Across from her, Clare sipped her Butterbeer and asked,

"How's your wrist?"

"It's all better now. Thank you." Bellatrix rotated her wrist as if to proudly show off just how well it was working. "My masked friend did a fine job of healing it."

"He's meant to come by again tonight, isn't he?"

"Yes, and I'm to touch him," Bellatrix said eagerly. The other girls looked at one another, surprise crossing their faces.

"I'd be content to just lie there and let _him_ touch _me,_" Clare said, and Veronique inquired,

"Don't you want for 'im to just keep stopping by to pleasure you and leaving again?"

"No. I…" Bellatrix smiled down at her pie. "I actually want him. I want to see his cock. I wonder what it's like. What he looks and feels like there. I want to touch him. I want to make him feel good."

"She's got a crush! On a customer!" Marian gasped the words as though they were profoundly naughty. Clare stared at Bellatrix and reminded her,

"It's dangerous to want these men."

"I know." Bellatrix nodded. "He's different."

"Is he?" Clare tipped her head. "He wears a mask and pays for your time. And you want him? Bellatrix."

"I know." She huffed a breath. "I wish I could explain, but I can't."

"Just be careful. Maybe one of us should take him tonight," Marian suggested, but Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide.

"No!" she exclaimed. "No! I'll take him. Really. It's fine."

Clare put her hands up and scoffed. "If you get into trouble, I'll let Madam Sophie handle it. Don't say we didn't warn you, Bellatrix."

"Right." Bellatrix dug into her pie again.

That night, she had a quick session with a haggard-looking wizard who didn't give his name. He reeked of firewhisky but was gentle with his hands. It was over and done with swiftly, and Bellatrix cleaned herself up and went back downstairs. She looked around for Mr Riddle, but he hadn't arrived yet. Her eyes settled on Swithin Mulciber, who was talking with Madam Sophie, and her heart sank. He always wanted her. And he always took too long. She gulped. She didn't have a choice, she knew. Sure enough, Madam Sophie beckoned her over. Bellatrix forced a smile on her face.

"Bellatrix," said Madam Sophie, "Mr Mulciber has paid to extend his session tonight. He'd like for the two of you to enjoy a drink together and talk for a while before the party begins. Please take your time with him. Get him a drink, girl."

Bellatrix shut her eyes for a moment and then curled up her lips as she walked with Swithin Mulciber over to the bar. She was going to miss Mr Riddle, she thought. He'd come here, and she'd be busy, and he'd leave. She looked at the wizened bartender and said,

"Mr Mulciber, what may we get for you?"

"Blishen's firewhisky on the rocks," Mulciber said. "And you, lovely little girl? What naughty drink will you be drinking?"

Bellatrix felt dirty, having him talk to her like that. She curled up a lip, quickly fixed her face, and said to the bartender,

"Gin and Gillywater, if you please."

Their drinks were Levitated over to them, and Bellatrix plucked hers out of the air. She smiled at Mulciber and led him up the stairs. She could practically feel his eyes on her backside as she climbed. She opened the door to her room and walked inside, and she sat on the edge of her bed. Mulciber kicked off his shoes, and the stink of his feet filled the little room. He sat beside Bellatrix and hummed.

"Guess where I've come from, just before here?" he teased. Bellatrix raised her brows.

"Where, sir?"

"Your parents' house!" He sipped his firewhisky, and Bellatrix's stomach twisted. She took a drink of gin and Gillywater, and she nodded.

"I hope they're well."

"Your father didn't ask after you. He doesn't know I've been fucking you." Mulciber let out a terrible laugh, and Bellatrix's eyes watered. She drank again, more deeply this time. Mulciber continued, "We had a lovely dinner. Abraxas Malfoy and your father and I. Your mother and sister ate downstairs. Anyway. After dinner, I excused myself for a moment, and do you know where I went?"

"No." Bellatrix stared down into her glass. "No, sir. Where did you go?"  
"To your old bedroom!" burst Mulciber. Bellatrix's heart raced. Mulciber stroked at her arm, and it took everything she had not to physically recoil. He brushed his knuckles over her arm, and she got gooseflesh. She wrenched her eyes shut as he leaned close and said, "I went into the room where you used to sleep, and I buried my face into your pillows, Bellatrix."

"Oh." She felt sick. She was disgusted; actual vomit rose in her throat. This man, her estranged father's 'friend,' had been in her old bedroom and had been on her bed? Bellatrix choked out a bitter laugh. "Well. You've seen more of that bedroom than I will any time soon, Mr Mulciber. I'm not welcome back there."

"A pity. We could have fun on that bed, you and I." He knocked back the rest of his firewhisky and set his empty glass on the bedside table. Bellatrix finished her gin and Gillywater, and she trembled as she asked,

"What would you like to do tonight, sir?"

He wanted to pound into her from behind, apparently. He wanted to spank at her backside and drag his fingers down her spine. He wanted to grunt and moan as he thrust into her. And all the while, Bellatrix could only think of him dining with her father, joking and japing and sipping wine. She could only think of him meandering up to her room and sniffing her pillows. She collapsed down onto her elbows as Mulciber came inside of her, and she tried desperately not to cry. When he pulled out of her, Bellatrix forced herself to reach for her wand. She Siphoned up his come and freshened her body to rid herself of the feel and smell of him. She cleared away his presence from her flesh as best she could, and then she pulled on her knickers and nightgown with shaking fingers and said,

"Ready to go downstairs, Mr Mulciber?"

"Mmm… that didn't take as long as I'd expected. Perhaps we could sit and talk for a while longer." He petted Bellatrix's hair, and she wanted to scream. Was Mr Riddle down there? She wanted to dash down the stairs and yell for him. Instead she moved her lips and asked,

"What would you like to talk about?"

"On second thought, I'm far more interested in your cunny than in anything you have to say." Mulciber chuckled, and Bellatrix's smile disappeared. She blinked. He patted her cheek just a little too hard, and he said, "Let's go. I'm ready."

Bellatrix walked him down the stairs, wobbling on her legs from the way he'd forced her to kneel for so long. She'd forgotten to fix the red patches on her knees, she thought. She hobbled into the parlour where everyone was milling about, and she said to Mulciber,

"Goodnight, sir."

"I'll have to buy another package of sessions. I like fucking you." He tapped her cheek again, too hard, almost a slap. Bellatrix winced and moved away, forcing a little smile.

"Goodnight," she said again. Mulciber walked out the door, and as soon as he'd gone, Madam Sophie called,

"Bellatrix, I hope you're ready to get straight back to work. Someone's been waiting an awfully long while."

Bellatrix couldn't help glaring at Madam Sophie then. As though she could help that anybody had been kept waiting! Mulciber had had drinks and sex; what was Bellatrix meant to do about that! But she shoved a toothy grin onto her face and said,

"Yes, Madam."

Then she walked as quickly as she could to where Mr Riddle was sitting. He rose from his chair as she approached, and he started to walk to the stairs.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, sir," Bellatrix huffed. "My last party took longer than I'd expected, and I -"

"Party. Bah." Mr Riddle shook his head and climbed the stairs with Bellatrix. When they reached her room, he asked, "Was he better to you this time than last time?"

"Erm…" Bellatrix pushed the door open and scratched at her hair. "He didn't physically hurt me. So."

Mr Riddle shoved the door shut and yanked at his mask. It came off with a little puff of black smoke, and then his aged but oddly handsome face was revealed. Bellatrix stared at him, suddenly wanting him very badly. He demanded of her,

"What did he do?"

"He smelled the pillows in my bedroom at my parents' house earlier tonight." Bellatrix realised at once how very strange that sounded. She shook her head and shut her eyes. "You're a Legilimens. Can't you just look into my head and watch him tell me all about it?"

"_Legilimens__._" Mr Riddle murmured the word, and Bellatrix felt a tickling push in her skull. Suddenly Mulciber was bragging to her about dinner with her father, about going to her room. Bellatrix was reliving her own disgust. And then Mr Riddle pulled out of Bellatrix's mind, and Bellatrix opened her eyes. She met his gaze, and his mouth fell open.

"I'm going to hurt that man," he declared, and Bellatrix laughed a little.

"No. Don't do that." She sat on the edge of her bed, where she'd been before, and Mr Riddle took the spot where Mulciber had been. Only, now, Bellatrix was very comfortable indeed. She studied his chocolate brown eyes and whispered, "I am so glad you've come. How was Paris?"

"I got a lot of money," Mr Riddle declared, "from some people who used to support Grindelwald and are looking for a new cause to back. I've got all manner of capital; now I just need people."

"Followers," Bellatrix nodded. Mr Riddle tipped his head.

"I had them, once upon a time. In school. I had a gang of Slytherins who did my bidding. But that was child's play. This is different. This is real. I need people who are not afraid to get their hands dirty."

Bellatrix was a little breathless then. She nodded. "What sort of thing do you want your followers to do?"

His throat bobbed. He reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, and he said quietly,

"We're going to make some people disappear. Those in power will become appropriately afraid if people start disappearing with no real explanation why. That's the first step."

Bellatrix grinned and nodded. "Someday, I shall help you make someone disappear."

His face was very serious then. He examined her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, and he said,

"I can afford it now. I couldn't, not really, not before I went to Paris. But now I've money for it."

"Money for what?" Bellatrix furrowed her brows and reached for his fingers. He pinched his lips and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Do you swear, Bellatrix, to be my soldier? Do you promise to do what I ask of you? Do you promise to help me advance my cause?"

She blinked and sank her teeth into her lip. She moved closer to him, putting her mouth near his ear and whispering,

"I swear it. I do."

"Then I can afford to help you." He pulled her face back, and Bellatrix shivered as he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. She wanted him, she thought. She wanted him so badly right now. How was he going to help her, she wondered? He bent and kissed her, very delicately, and she moaned a little onto his lips. He pulled away and told her,

"I can afford to get you a little flat. Nothing fancy. A place for you to stay, safe, away from your family. And in exchange, you'll work for me. No more of this nasty prostitution business."

Bellatrix gasped. She stared up at his eyes and whispered, "You're going to take me away from here?"

"Yes." His throat bobbed again, and he clarified, "I'll need a few days to secure the flat. I'll come back for you, and you'll leave with me."

She started to cry then, overwhelmed with emotions that she could not quite calibrate. He swept her into a kiss, and on instinct she climbed onto him. She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and their tongues tangled in his mouth and then in hers. He dragged her lip into his mouth, and in her mind, she was suddenly taken back to the New Year's Eve party a few years earlier, when she'd been a stupid, bold little girl who had asked Tom Riddle to dance. Now she kissed him for all she was worth, more grateful than she could say. Was she saying it with this kiss? She hoped so. She reached down between them, trying to unbutton his trousers. But he covered her hands with his and shook his head, breaking the kiss.

"No." He met her eyes, and suddenly Bellatrix wondered whether something was wrong with his cock. He scowled and insisted, "There's nothing wrong with it! It's just… not _here._ It feels dirty here. It feels wrong here. It feels like you are a whore and I am your customer here."

"But I am a whore," Bellatrix reminded him, "and you are paying for this time."

He huffed a breath and shut his eyes, shaking his head.

"I would much rather be patient enough to wait until we are in your new flat, and there is no money exchanged," he said. "I want your hands on me because you decided to put your hands on me. I want to be inside of you because… mmph. Sorry."

His cheeks went red, and she knew why. They'd never discussed actual sex, at least not in detail. But he'd thought about it, she realised now. She smirked, feeling flattered and flushed. She kissed his warm cheek and whispered,

"Fine. We shall wait, but only because you've insisted. And because I am so very, very grateful to you. And believe me; when I do touch you, I'm going to want to do it."

He slid his hands up her ribcage and squeezed at her breasts a little. She touched her forehead to his, and he said in a quiet voice,

"I'm still going to touch you until you come. All the time."

"Are you?" Bellatrix ground down against him, feeling his erection against the crotch of her knickers. She kissed his mouth hard, losing herself in the kiss for a moment, and then instinct compelled her to move her mouth to his neck. She started to lap and suck and nibble, but he hissed and warned her,

"Merlin's beard. That feels good, but you have to stop."

"Why?" Bellatrix sucked hard on a bit of flesh, and he wrenched her face away. He laughed a little and said,

"If you mark me up, you'll get yourself into trouble. Kissing is against the rules."

"Ah. Yes." Bellatrix sighed heavily. She studied the skin she'd abused and pursed her lips. Mr Riddle put his hand there and laughed.

"_Episkey_," he incanted, and Bellatrix chewed her lip. She stared into his eyes for a long moment and asked,

"Are you very certain I can't touch you here?"

"I would much prefer that you first do that in a comfortable bed in a flat that is yours," said Mr Riddle, "under circumstances of your own making, without the burden of a financial transaction. Please. Bella."

_Bella._

Her eyes welled at the shortened name. She nodded frantically and whispered, "Yes. All right."

After she'd climbed off of him and he'd put his mask back on, she informed him,

"I am going to make people disappear for you."

"You will be a very fine soldier," Mr Riddle confirmed. "And I will find you a nice little flat. A cosy little place, and from there, you will work for me. I'll be back in a few days to collect you."

This time, when he left, Bellatrix struggled hard not to cry. It took everything she had to go back upstairs with a skinny wizard calling himself Black-Eyed John. But she muscled through her work, shutting her eyes and knowing that Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort_ \- was going to secure a flat for her. He was going to come back for her and take her away from here.

And she was going to make people disappear for him.

**Author's Note: ****Awwwww****, yes. These two are starting to get real. So what is this flat going to look like? Where will it be? What will Madam Sophie and the other girls say when he comes back for Bellatrix? Will he do anything to Mulciber? AND WILL SHE EVER ACTUALLY TOUCH HIM? I promise to answer all these questions and more. ;****)** **Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 5

On Friday, it was bitterly cold and was raining in the morning. Bellatrix woke sore and angry; the night before, she'd been made to have anal relations with a man who had been entirely too rough about it. She used the _Allevio_ _Trio_ spell she'd learnt from Mr Riddle, and she made her bed. She dressed for the day, choosing a modest black blouse and knee-length black skirt with flat boots. She strolled over to her window with its thick curtains, and she parted them, squinting out into the rainy mid-morning. She sighed and supposed she had best make her way to the White Wyvern for some porridge and an orange.

She pattered downstairs and found Marian and Clare in the brothel's parlour. Marian looked weary, and Clare seemed to be comforting her. Bellatrix walked up to the girls and asked,

"Something wrong?"

"Marian worked _seven_ last night," Clare hissed. "Seven. She's exhausted."

Bellatrix looked round and said in a low voice, "I can't believe Madam Sophie would make you take so many. Why?"

"Two at once," Marian moaned quietly, "Then two quickly, back-to-back. Three longer parties. I could barely walk by two in the morning; I was sick and so achy. Needed so much Butterfly Weed Balm."

"Goodness. Why don't you rest?" Bellatrix suggested. "Is today your day off? You could trade with someone."

"I just want to go eat something." Marian coughed a little, and Bellatrix suddenly felt like her own sore backside was nothing compared to Marian's troubles.

A bell tinkled - the door opening - and Clare called in an angry voice,

"Sorry, sir. We don't open for business until six o'clock tonight."

"I am not here for ordinary business."

Bellatrix gasped. Her masked savior, Tom Riddle, had just come striding straight into the brothel in his disguise, and her heart fluttered. Marian stared at Bellatrix with curiosity, and Clare demanded,

"What can we do for you, sir?"

"I need to speak with Madam Sophie," said Mr Riddle, and suddenly there were footsteps on the stairs behind the girls. Bellatrix whirled round to see Madam Sophie coming into the parlour.

"Here I am. Is there a problem, sir?" she asked. "Girls, you may go."

"There is no reason for them to leave," said Mr Riddle in a light tone, "especially Miss Black. What I have to say concerns her in particular."

Marian and Clare flicked their eyes between Mr Riddle and Bellatrix, then looked to Madam Sophie. She approached Mr Riddle and held out her hands in a gesture of feigned welcome.

"How may we be on assistance to you, sir?"

"Miss Black's employment with you ends today," said Mr Riddle behind his mask. "She is coming with me."

"She very well is not!" Madam Sophie exclaimed. She scoffed and looked at the girls, then at Mr Riddle, who handed over a heavy sack of coins.

"For your trouble, Madam Sophie. Three hundred Galleons," he said. "I've secured a place for her to live, and a new line of employment for her. All she has to do is collect her things, and we can be on our way."

"Really?" Bellatrix felt her eyes well up at once. She chomped her lip and whispered again, "Really?"

"Yes. Really. Why don't you and the girls go pack up your things, and I'll discuss your departure with Madam Sophie?" said Mr Riddle. Bellatrix nodded and dashed toward the stairs. Marian and Clare came with her, stomping up the stairs and following her to her room. As soon as they were inside, Marian slammed the door and said,

"You're going to leave. With a man in a mask. Are you completely insane?"

"No. It's… it's marvelous. He's marvelous. I saw him. He took his mask off; I know who he is." Bellatrix grinned at the other two girls. Clare's eyes went wide.

"Who is he?"  
"I can't say," Bellatrix insisted, "but I can tell you that he wants the best for me. And I don't want to keep him waiting. I have to pack."

"I just can't believe that you've got a man who wants to take you away from here," Marian marveled. Bellatrix took her suitcase out from under her bed, cracked it open, and incated,

"_Consolido_ _Rebus_."

Her clothes, her perfumes, her cosmetics and her shoes all started flying from the wardrobe and the boudoir. They landed in the suitcase, and Bellatrix used another spell to shut and lock the bag.

"Do you feel safe going with him?" Marian asked worriedly. "Do you not feel a little frightened?"  
"I feel far safer going with him than staying here." Bellatrix thought of the night before, the way she'd been made to take a man up her backside as he roughly pounded her. She shivered and picked up her suitcase off the bed. She stared at the girls, and Clare asked,

"Will you come visit us sometimes?"

"Of course she won't. Would you?" Marian hissed. Bellatrix curled up her lips and shook her head.

"I will come. I promise it. Whenever I can, I shall be here to say hello."

"Right." Marian sighed. "Let's get you downstairs. I certainly am going to miss you, Bellatrix."

"As am I." Clare opened the door, leading the way down the staircase. Bellatrix followed, feeling anticipation building in her belly as she thought that perhaps this was her last time coming down these steps. She'd come down them many times now, usually aching from having been with a man who was fat, or smelly, or cruel. Men who had wives waiting for them at home. Men with daughters Bellatrix's age. Men who had no business in a place like this, but came anyway. Now she stepped into the parlour and saw Mr Riddle calmly discussing matters with Madam Sophie, and she whispered,

"I am saved. He has come to save me."

"Bellatrix." Marian squeezed her hand as they walked across the parlour. Mr Riddle held his hand out, and he inquired,

"Are you ready to go? We've everything squared away."

"I wasn't expecting you to come so soon," Bellatrix said. She walked up to him and took his hand. She stared up at his mask and said, "You told me it would be a few days."

He tipped his head. "It has been a few days. I moved as quickly as I possibly could on this. Just signed the papers on the place at seven this morning. Shall we go? Side-Along Apparition?"

"I'm ready." Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder at the other girls and at Madam Sophie. "Thank you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," they all mumbled, and Bellatrix looked back to Mr Riddle. She nodded, and then suddenly she was being pinched and whirled through an empty void. When she came to, she was in a rainy street. She was still in London. She could tell that much. They were on a sidewalk, and there was a four storey brick building, of ugly design and plain construction, to the left. It was still pouring rain, so Mr Riddle hurried up to the building and reached into his robe. Bellatrix watched as he opened the exterior door with a brass key, and he told her,

"Spells will work, of course, but since this is a Muggle building, I'd prefer if you used the key."

"Right." Bellatrix nodded. She followed him inside and then down a flight of green-carpeted stairs to the basement. The building was quiet, but the electric lights overhead were flickering in one spot, and there was an ugly painting on a wall going down the basement stairs. Bellatrix let Mr Riddle lead her to the collection of three basement flats, and he gestured to the one labeled _1B_.

"This is the best I could obtain on such short notice, and my funds aren't unlimited," he said, "but I do hope it's better than a brothel. It's nothing special."

"On the contrary, sir, I think it is very special," Bellatrix told him. He sighed and used the key to open the door leading to the flat. He pushed it open, and inside Bellatrix saw an apartment that was probably considered quite modern by Muggle standards. In the kitchen, the counters were shiny blue tile that extended up the backsplash. There was a white porcelain sink that matched the white refrigerator and stove. The small kitchen led to a little dining nook with a round, simple table and four wooden chairs. In the cramped sitting room was a dark plaid sofa and a mismatched plaid armchair. There was a bookshelf with no books, and a coffee table that looked like its leg had been repaired at some point. Bellatrix, who had grown up fabulously wealthy, loved the place at once because it was _hers_.

"Thank you." She whirled as Mr Riddle shut the door. He reached up to pull his mask off in a puff of smoke. She clutched at his face and pulled herself up onto her tiptoes. "Thank you. Thank you."

"You have to do work for me," he reminded her. "You're going to make people disappear for me."

"Yes." She grinned and felt tears start worming their way out of her eyes. "Yes, I will kill Muggles in their sleep and Vanish the corpses and clean up the scene, and I will… oh."

She stopped short, caught up in his kiss. He backed her up a little, toward the sitting room. He dropped his mask onto the armchair and whispered onto her mouth,

"You're going to castrate Swithin Mulciber."

"I'm going to _what?_" Bellatrix pulled back and stared up at Mr Riddle. He cleared his throat and pulled down his hood. He started to strip off his heavy outer robe, something he'd never been willing to do in the Dancing Doxy. He tossed the robe down on the armchair with his mask, revealing his leather tunic and cotton undershirt and trousers. He sniffed and said to Bellatrix,

"That man physically hurt you, with what he did to your mouth. I saw it in your memories. He was choking you. You did not enjoy it, and he knew that. He liked the way you hated it."

Bellatrix licked her lip and shook her head. "I had all kinds of men come in who liked to make me unhappy. He wasn't the first."

"He made a habit of it," Mr Riddle spat. "Then he went and ate dinner with your father, and he went up to your bedroom and lay in your bed, smelled your pillows, and told you about it to torment you."

Bellatrix chewed some skin off her lip, wondered if it was bleeding, and tried hard not to cry. She whispered,

"It's over now. I don't have to do anything with him anymore."

"Swithin Mulciber wants to join my movement," Mr Riddle announced, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open. She gulped. She shook her head, and Mr Riddle declared, "I have a meeting scheduled with him on Tuesday. I would like for you to be there, Bellatrix, and I would like for you to castrate him. I'll teach you the proper spells."

Bellatrix scoffed. "I can't… you expect me to…"

"I expect for him to know why it is that is being denied a place in my ranks, and he'll learn that lesson at the hand of the witch he tried to break." Mr Riddle tucked her hair behind her ear. "_Castrare_ _Perpetua_. That's the spell you'll need to castrate him. Take your wand out."

"I don't want to practise anywhere near you!" Bellatrix fretted, but Mr Riddle coughed a laugh and assured her,

"I'll steer clear. Don't worry." He helped her move her hand in a slicing motion, sharp and quick, and he said again, "_Castrare_ _Perpetua._"

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix said, entirely on instinct. But when she looked up at Mr Riddle, he seemed shocked. His throat bobbed, and he murmured,

"Say that again. Beautiful creature."

"My Lord?" She picked with a tooth at the spot on her lip she'd chomped so hard. "I remember someone saying last year that people were calling you that. _Like some __sort of __Muggle nobleman_, they teased, but I remember thinking it was…"

"It was what?" He put his hands on her waist, and she whispered,

"Alluring. Entrancing. _My Lord._"

"Oh. Bella." He slid his hands up her ribs and lowered his mouth to hers. For a long moment, he kissed her, and she was lost to him. She crumpled the leather of his tunic again, and when he finally broke the kiss, he squeezed his eyes shut and noted,

"There's a Muggle radio in here. There was a television, but I Vanished it; I find they can interfere with magic. I'll get you a Wizarding Wireless soon."

"Thank you." Bellatrix breathed in the scent of the sea on him, and she wondered, "What do the Muggles listen to on the radio?"

He laughed a little. "Let's find out."

He aimed his wand at the radio on the kitchen counter, and it switched on. There was a song playing that felt an awful lot like a ballad, and Bellatrix listened for a moment.

"_Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better."_

"We have music now," Bellatrix realised, and she held out her right arm and put her left hand on his shoulder. Mr Riddle smirked and brought his hand to her waist and slid his fingers through hers. They started to sway, and he stared down, straight into her eyes.

"I don't know if I've told you," he said, "but you are very beautiful. I'm sure you were all the time at the Doxy, but let me be yet another to tell you."

"It means a lot more coming from you," Bellatrix promised him. The music carried on behind them.

"_Hey Jude, don't let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better."_

"I want you," she informed him. "I want you so badly. These last few days have been hell. The men who weren't you. Wondering, waiting, wishing, hoping. I just wanted you."

"I'm right here," he shrugged. "And you're safe. You're in a simple little flat, but it's yours. And you're going to castrate Swithin Mulciber, and you're going to do fine work for me as a soldier. And I am dancing with you."

"Oh." Bellatrix was breathless then. She studied his wrinkles, his scars, and tried to make herself not want him quite so badly. It didn't work. She just wanted to strip off his clothes and see what lay beneath. She wanted to kiss him until they needed air and their lips were bruised and achy. She wanted to…

"See the bedroom?" She blinked a few times, and she watched half of his mouth curl up. He kept them dancing, and he teased,

"I saw it when I toured with the real estate agent. It's just a little room with butter yellow walls and a double bed with a white comforter. Nothing fancy."

"I don't care if it's fancy. I'd like to go into it and become naked." Bellatrix decided to be plain. Mr Riddle raised his eyebrows and mumbled,

"Naked, you say?"

"Have you some objection to being naked with me?" Bellatrix asked, and he shook his head.

"No objection. At all. Believe me."

"Then, perhaps this interminable song could just be decidedly over and we could stop dancing," she said, "and go into the butter yellow bedroom with the white blankets on the bed."

Mr Riddle lowered his hands and aimed his wand at the radio. He shut it off and then touched his wand to Bellatrix's lower abdomen, murmuring,

"_Nongravidare Maxima. _Don't worry; I'm clean. Shall we go?"

"Yes. Please." Bellatrix watched him tuck his wand away, and she let him take her hand and guide her out of the little sitting room. She tingled and shivered in a way she had never, ever done for her customers as he led her to the bedroom he'd procured for her.

No, she thought. He was nothing like the others.

And her life began now.

**Author's Note: So she's going to get her revenge on Swithin Mulciber. But will Mulciber escape alive, or will Tom Riddle/Voldemort punish him beyond what Bellatrix is doing? **

**Obviously, we have a big, fat lemon coming up in the next chapter. Brace yourselves for detail. Haha.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Bellatrix."

She looked over her shoulder at him as they walked into the small bedroom with its pine bed and matching wardrobe. She raised her eyebrows at him, and as he shut off the overhead electric light and flicked his fingers at the lamp beside the bed, he murmured,

"Don't do anything like… you know, the things those wizards made you do. I don't want to be like them."

"Oh. My Lord." Bellatrix shook her head. "You are nothing like them."

He pulled her into a close hold and bent to touch his lips to hers. "Tell me what you want. What will please you. Tell me what will make you feel good, Bellatrix, and I will do that."

"I want to see you," she said, rather earnestly. "I want to touch you. At last."

Mr Riddle sighed and reached to unbuckle the leather straps at the sides of his tunic. He undid them one at a time, like little belt buckles, and for some reason it was terribly sexy to watch him unstrap himself like that. Bellatrix stepped back, sucking in air as she observed him haul the heavy tunic up and over his shoulders. His black cotton shirt beneath was lightweight, and it stripped off easily. Then he was shirtless, and Bellatrix felt her throat go dry. She ogled him, the way his lean muscle carved and sliced. She stared at the thin scars running across his pectoral muscles and his tight abdomen. On instinct, she reached out to touch him, brushing her fingers over his warm, hard skin.

"You are… so handsome." She didn't have anything more insightful to say. She raised her eyes to his face, knowing he'd aged far beyond his early forties and not caring. She cupped his jaw in her hand and mumbled, "I want you."

"Bellatrix." He whispered her name, and it rolled off of his lips delicately. She shut her eyes and savoured the feel of him standing so near to her. She got to work on the buttons of his trousers at once. Her fingers moved deftly, easily, for she was quite practised at removing a man's clothing. She undid the buttons and shoved his trousers and undergarments down. Mr Riddle wriggled out of them, kicking his boots away and then shucking his trousers entirely. Then he was naked, standing before her with his cock out, and Bellatrix just gaped.

Enormous. He was enormous.

She blinked a few times and stared ungracefully at his member. It was rude to stare at a man's cock. She'd been taught that by Madam Sophie. She'd also been taught to flatter wizards who had small penises, and how to absorb the impact from a man with a large cock. But unless Bellatrix was remembering incorrectly, this was the largest one she'd seen. Out of all the wizards' anatomy she'd seen as a prostitute, this was the most impressive. Was this why he'd kept pushing her away?

He cleared his throat a little, and Bellatrix snapped her eyes up to his. His cheeks had gone a little pink, and he wrapped a hand round his shaft as he shrugged.

"It's a bit big, I know."

"Understatement. It's certainly not a problem." Bellatrix grinned, and Mr Riddle finally smirked. He brushed his knuckles down the side of Bellatrix's arm and asked,

"Any chance of you undressing and meeting me halfway in nudity?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." She quickly divested herself of her blouse, bra, skirt, and knickers. She slid off her flat boots and made a neat pile of her clothes with a flick of her wand. She was naked then, and for the first time in months, she was a little embarrassed about that fact. Ordinarily, she didn't care what her customers thought of her body, or whether they thought she was a pretty little thing. But right now, she very much cared what Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort_ \- thought about her. She stepped up to him and stared at his face, searching for a response to her body.

He liked her. She could tell. It was obvious from the way his eyes glinted, the way his lips parted and his breath started to come more quickly. He reached to brush his knuckles over Bellatrix's breast, dragging his thumb over the nipple that peaked, and she hummed. She felt herself flush wet between her legs, and she whispered,

"I like being touched by you."

"I want to make you happy." He compressed his fingers around the tissue of her breast, and as he stepped a little closer, his cock tucked up against Bellatrix's belly. She let her eyes flutter shut, and she hummed a little noise, because he'd put his fingertips of his other hand between her legs. She adjusted how she was standing until he could touch her more easily. He dipped down, his lips going beside her ear, and he whispered,

"I want to make you come."

"You are very good at making me come with just your fingers," Bellatrix laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She held onto him, and he rubbed his hand away from her breast, down over her ribs and squeezing at her backside. He dared to press a little at the button of her bum, making Bellatrix squirm and moan.

"You like that," he noted, and Bellatrix gave a frantic nod. He pushed one finger, then another, into her womanhood, and he used his thumb to press circles onto her clit. He pulsed and pushed, and then his thumb of his other hand pressed again at her bum. Bellatrix squeezed the cheeks of her backside together and wrenched her eyes shut, feeling her cheeks go hot. Why did she like that so much? She choked out a helpless sound as he stood upright and murmured,

"Feel it deeply, Bella."

_Bella._ She wanted him to call her that forever. She opened her eyes and stared up at him as he twisted his fingers inside of her and toyed with her clit. He pushed at her backside again, and she whispered,

"It feels too good."

"I'm glad to hear that." Mr Riddle curled up half his mouth and deepened his touch. He dragged his fingers against the front of her walls, pulsing hard onto her clit with his thumb. He depressed his thumb again onto her bum, not hard enough to penetrate but hard enough to make her knees weak. That was enough. That did her in. Bellatrix coughed out a sound of need, a guttural sound of pleasure and satisfaction. Then she felt herself contracting around his fingers as her vision blurred and the sound in her ears whirred. For a long moment, she thought she would fall. It felt good, so good, to just stand there and come. It felt so much better than it had felt in the brothel.

"Please kiss me." Bellatrix finally managed to speak, pleading up at him as she came to her senses. He wandlessly uttered a spell to Scour his hands, and then he took her face in his palms and bent to kiss her deeply. Bellatrix reached between them and stroked at his cock, thinking again that he was of particularly generous size. He must be aching for release now, she thought. He must be dying to come by now. She broke their kiss and said,

"Tell me your _thing_."

"My… _thing_," Mr Riddle repeated, and Bellatrix cocked up a brow.

"Everyone has a thing that makes them made with desire. Tell me yours so that I can please you properly."

"You are not a prostitute anymore," Mr Riddle pointed out. "You don't have to please men; you get to be pleased now."

"I want to make you feel good." Bellatrix used one hand to pump at his uncut cock, and she touched gently at his chest with the other. He bent to kiss her again, brushing his lips against hers, and he mumbled,

"My _thing_, I suppose, would be to hold you."

Bellatrix frowned, confused. His most ardent desire was to hold her? Her eyes welled just a little, and she whispered,

"No, you're not like the others, are you?"

"I hope not," he said. He pulled her toward the bed and made a move to lie atop the white tufted blankets, but then he pulled them back, muttering, "Underneath would be warmer, I suppose."

He climbed under the blankets then, and Bellatrix followed him. She was shocked by the way he pulled her up against him, snuggling her body against his and sighing as though cradling her on his body was the best thing in all the world. He just breathed above her, for a very long while, and Bellatrix was sure he'd lose his erection. But she kept fondling it every now and then, and whenever she did, he seemed harder than ever. He was right. He did like this. He did like holding her. He did like cradling her.

"My Lord? Is it all right if I call you that?" She spoke against his chest, and there was a vibration against her as he let out a low rumble of a laugh.

"I must admit that I quite like _My Lord_." He played with her hair a little and sighed again. Bellatrix said,

"I am quite looking forward to castrating Mr Mulciber."

"I am also looking forward to that," Mr Riddle said. "He'll get his due and more. But I don't want to think about Mulciber right now; it makes me think of what he did to you. I don't like to think of what he did to you. Soon enough the man will be… soon enough he'll have paid a steep price."

Bellatrix felt uneasy then. "I apologise for bringing it up."

He raised her face to his and shook his head. "You know I have seen great potential in you for years. I have only recently begun wanting you. The sensations I bear toward you are… complex at best, Bella."

"I see." She felt him starting to soften in her hand, so she pumped her fist on him and whispered, "I want to make you feel good."

"Will you be on top?" he asked, and she grinned. She nodded.

"Of course. My Lord."

She pushed him playfully onto his back and then straddled his hips, sinking down slowly onto him. She gasped, for his size was surprising even with the fair warning. He filled and stretched her, and when Bellatrix started to move on him, she felt like she was being invaded. She tipped her head back and grappled for his hands, squeezing tightly and working up and down on her knees. Mr Riddle started to grunt and groan, and he complained,

"You are far too beautiful for an old man like me. You'll make me come too quickly, Bella."

She laughed, for she'd heard that complaint from so many men before. Suddenly she panicked and gasped,

"Contraceptive charm!"

"Bloody hell. _Nongravidare_ _Maxima._" Mr Riddle practically slapped his hand to her lower abdomen, and Bellatrix appreciated his ability to perform wandless magic. Bellatrix mumbled her thanks and kept bobbing up and down atop him. She started to get tired after a while, and he seemed to sense that. He rolled them until he was on top of her, and she growled,

"I normally have far better stamina."

"What's the matter today?" he teased, his voice and face playful. Bellatrix giggled and declared,

"It's just that you're rather large, and it tires me out a bit more easily, and -"

"Mmph." Mr Riddle bent down and kissed her. She smiled against his lips, and he pushed into her body again, this time with him doing all the work. Bellatrix gripped the pillow and writhed, feeling overwhelmed by him as she bent her knees up to her chest. Suddenly he was coming, his face contorting and his eyes squeezed shut. It was leaking all over the sheets, running out between their bodies in a river down Bellatrix's skin. She moaned a little as he pulled out, and she let him Siphon and Scour. Normally she did the cleaning up.

Bellatrix found herself, somehow, lying on the pillows beside Mr Riddle, both of them naked, neither of them in a rush to get dressed and leave. Bellatrix rotated and stared at her savior where he lay in the bed beside her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked again. "Why did you come to visit me for all the wrong reasons at the brothel? Why did you help me escape into this flat? Why are you employing me into your movement? Why?"

"Because," he said, as if it were very straightforward, "I believe in you, Bellatrix Black, even if it feels like no one does right now."

Her eyes were very wet indeed then, and she shook her head and whispered,

"It is a dream come true, what's happened with you. Almost as though being expelled from school was meant to happen, to lead to this."

"Perhaps it was." Mr Riddle smirked a little. "I like that idea. Don't you?"

"I do." Bellatrix swiped at her tears. "I suppose you have important meetings to get to. People to see. Places to go. I suppose you'll be leaving straight away."

"Actually," Mr Riddle mused, "I was thinking that it's more than time for a good lunch. Will you join me?"

"Join you for lunch?" Bellatrix's lips parted, and he smiled a bit.

"The Muggles have a fish and chip shop just down the road. I'll put Muggle money in the kitchen for you to use round here, since you won't want to have to go to Diagon and Knockturn Alleys for every little thing."

"My Lord." Bellatrix chewed her lip. "You are too good to me."

"You are going to make people disappear for me," he reminded her. "But, first, you are going to castrate Mulciber and show me what you can do. But before any of that, we are going to get some lunch."

"Shall we get dressed?" Bellatrix suggested, and Mr Riddle shut his eyes as he mumbled,

"Five more minutes."

**Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in updating ****-** **Real Life and all that! So, these two are ****awfully ****cozy now, but what will happen when she proves her mettle as a soldier? Will Mulciber make it out alive? And what does Tom Riddle/Voldemort have in store for her "disappearing acts"? Hmm. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.**


	7. Chapter 7

This story has been CONTINUED and the next chapter is now up! Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

"So," Bellatrix said, sitting down with her basket of cheap food, "fish and chips. Muggles like to eat this often?"

"They eat it all the time," Mr Riddle confirmed. He picked up a bottle of malt vinegar and unscrewed the cap, shaking the vinegar onto his food as Bellatrix looked round the smoky, busy shop. She turned her attention back to her lunch and picked up her glass bottle of Coca-Cola, sipping at the fizzy drink and then eating a chip. She'd already expressed her gratitude when Mr Riddle had purchased the food, but she swallowed the chip and said sincerely,

"Thank you very kindly for lunch, My Lord."

Mr Riddle smirked a bit and picked up a piece of fried fish. He bit into it, chewed, and flashed Bellatrix a bigger smile. He set down the fish and sipped his own Coca-Cola. Then he said,

"I imagine you grew awfully tired of mutton stew at the White Wyvern."

"Indeed." Bellatrix poked at her chips and mused, "Our family House-Elf was… is… a spectacular cook. I used to have wonderful meals at home. I'll never have them again. My parents have made it quite plain that I will never step foot in their house again."

"Have you any particular reason, beyond the Elf's cooking, to step foot in their house?" Mr Riddle sniffed a bit, and when Bellatrix raised her eyes, he was taking another bite of fish. She gulped and shook her head.

"No," she admitted. "No. I… I dream of a life much bigger than them. Much more meaningful than being their daughter."

"Mmm-hmm." Mr Riddle set down his fish and sipped his cola again. Bellatrix took a bite of her own fish and relished the fatty, oily goodness of it as he told her, "You got expelled for a reason, Bellatrix."

"Did I?" She forced down the bite of food. She raised her brows at him and shook her head. "I got expelled because I made mistakes."

"You were expelled because you were too Dark for them," Mr Riddle declared. "You cast hexes and jinxes and even curses, and you -"

"I was a bully," Bellatrix interrupted. She lowered her gaze. "I was a relentless tormenter of my enemies, nothing more."

"Nothing more? Is that not enough?"

She looked up at him, and he was staring quite seriously at her. His scarred, blurred face was grave. He tapped the top of his Coca-Cola bottle and murmured,

"Is it not enough to punish one's enemies without flinching? Is it not enough to demonstrate Darkness without mercy? Hmm? I think it is enough, and sufficiently wonderful behaviour."

Bellatrix's eyes watered. She let out a long, shaky breath, remembering the day she'd been called into the Headmaster's office and informed that the school had had more than enough of her antics and antagonising, and that she was not welcome anymore at Hogwarts. Her parents had been notified, and the shrieking and breaking of vases had been awful. So, too, had been the way Bellatrix had been made to pack up a trunk and leave the house, sent on her way with a declaration from her parents that they never wanted to see or hear from her again after what she'd done. The shame she'd rendered on the Black family, they'd said, had been a stain that could never be washed away. She was a wretched disgrace, her mother had said. She was a hideous failure, her father had said. She was an terrible bully and deserved what she'd received, her sister Andromeda had said. And so Bellatrix had gone to Knockturn Alley, with nowhere else to turn, and had resolved that selling her body at the Dancing Doxy wouldn't be so bad.

Now she stared at Mr Riddle and dug her top teeth into her bottom lip. She felt a little buzz in her head and was acutely aware that he was using Legilimency to read what she was thinking. Somehow, she didn't much mind the invasion just now. She sipped her Coca-Cola and told him,

"I was expelled because of mistakes that I made, My Lord."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, "but I confess I am grateful for those mistakes. Without them, I would not be sitting in this fish and chip right now."

Bellatrix gave him a weak smile and asked, "Are you quite pleased to be in this fish and chip shop, sir?"

He nodded with a serious look. "I am, yes."

Bellatrix picked up a chip and put it into her mouth. She studied his face, deciding yet again that he was strangely handsome, and as she chewed, she thought of the way he'd pleasured her, the way he'd entered her, the way he'd held her. Did she want to work for him? Oh, yes. Yes, she did. Did she want to touch him and be touched by him? _Oh, yes._

"Tuesday," he said, and Bellatrix blinked, brought back to the moment. She nodded. She knew what he meant. Tuesday, he had a meeting with Swithin Mulciber. She was to castrate the man on Tuesday. It was not just a gift, she knew. It was not just a reward, not just revenge for the way Swithin had treated her. This was also a test. This was also how he would gauge her true Darkness, her true ability to work for him.

And Bellatrix would not let him down.

* * *

Bellatrix stood at the grand double doors of Malfoy Manor and knitted her hands together before her. She shut her eyes. She was not wanted here by the manor's owner, she was certain. Abraxas Malfoy was an old friend of her father's. Swithin Mulciber had bragged to Bellatrix about smelling her pillows at her parents' house, and he'd said that Abraxas Malfoy had been at dinner that night. Abraxas was friendly with both Swithin Mulciber and Cygnus Black. How would he react, knowing that Bellatrix Black was showing up on his doorstep to go to Tom Riddle's rented office?

Mr Riddle had said that Abraxas Malfoy let him use Malfoy Manor as the movement's headquarters. He lived in a suite there and had an office on the main floor. He'd given Bellatrix instructions for coming here today, but she was still remarkably nervous. It took absolutely everything she had to raise her hand and crash the knocker against the door four times. She took a half step back, adjusting the hood of her cloak, and she chomped on her lip. The door swung slowly open, and finally a scrawny, scrappy House-Elf with wide green eyes appeared.

"May Dobby help you, Miss?"

"I am here to see Mr Riddle," Bellatrix said with feigned confidence. "He is expecting me in his office. I do not require an introduction."

"Ah, yes. Mr Riddle said he was expecting a witch, Miss. Come in. Come in!" Dobby the House-Elf led Bellatrix into Malfoy Manor's grey marble foyer and then up a flight of stairs. Bellatrix walked down the carpet-lined corridor where Dobby led her, and when he gestured to a mahogany door on the right side of the hall, Bellatrix nodded and shooed him away. Once the Elf had skittered off, Bellatrix took a steadying breath, pulling out her wand and knocking a few times on the office door. She gulped as a voice from inside called,

"Do come in."

Bellatrix huffed out air and turned the brass knob on the door. She pushed the door open and stepped into the office, pushing the door shut behind her. She tried to keep breathing when she saw fat, ugly Swithin Mulciber standing in the centre of the wood-paneled office. There was sunlight streaming in through two windows on one wall, but otherwise the office was heavy and dark. Swithin's face was heavily shadowed, but Bellatrix could still read shock in his expression as he registered the fact that Bellatrix Black had just come walking into Tom Riddle's office.

"Why, Mr Mulciber," Bellatrix said with a little smile, "fancy seeing you here."

"I was just thinking the same thing, Miss Black," said Swithin, anxiety rippling through his voice. His thick throat bobbed, and he looked to Mr Riddle. "I had no idea you two knew one another well."

"Oh, very well. We became well-acquainted at the Dancing Doxy," Mr Riddle said. His face was steady and sure as he continued, "You see, I paid to spend my time with Miss Black _very_ differently than the way you spent your time with her. My goals were her happiness, her stability. But often I would visit her after a traumatic dalliance with you. I am a Legilimens, Mulciber, and I could see it all in her head. The way you hurt her. The way you _liked_ hurting her."

"No." Swithin Mulciber defensively shook his head and scoffed loudly. "No. I paid for encounters with the girl, and I took what I paid for. Nothing more."

"You took advantage," said Mr Riddle, narrowing his eyes, "and you took pleasure in tormenting her. Oh, and you didn't pay to smell her pillows and lie on her childhood bed, did you?"

Mulciber's mouth fell open. He looked to Bellatrix and then back to Mr Riddle. His face was scarlet now. He stared at Mr Riddle for a moment and then very slowly turned his face toward Bellatrix. He glared and said,

"I'd call you a whore, but what use is the truth as an insult?"

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "I'd call you a scoundrel, but the word isn't nearly strong enough. I'd call you a son of a bitch, but I happen to know your mother's a perfectly nice witch. So I don't know what to call you. I know you're evil."

"Evil." Mulciber choked a laugh. He put his hands on his hips and took a step toward Bellatrix. She stood her ground, rolling her shoulders back and adjusting her hold on her wand. Swithin Mulciber said to her, "You got your pretty little arse expelled from Hogwarts for being a nasty little bully, and then you whored yourself out. And you're hurling insults? That's rich. What are you doing here, anyway? I'm meeting with Mr Riddle to discuss important business."

"You won't be joining the movement," Mr Riddle said firmly. Swithin looked scandalised, and he gasped a little. He seemed almost hurt as he pointed out,

"I am a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am a wealthy man. I have myriad connections; I am -"

"You are not necessary, and you are not welcome," said Mr Riddle. He turned his eyes to Bellatrix and said, "Bellatrix. Do it now."

"Do what?" Swithin's voice shook like a leaf. Bellatrix aimed her crooked wand at him, and he scrambled in his robes for his own wand. But he was too slow. Bellatrix pointed her want at his crotch and slashed it quickly from left to right.

"_Castrare Perpetua._"

Suddenly Swithin Mulciber was screaming. He collapsed onto the ground and writhed around like a fish flopping on the deck of a boat. He clutched frantically between his thighs. Bellatrix had been told by Mr Riddle what would happen to Swithin. The spell would sever his testicles and Vanish them permanently into Non-Being. The wound would cauterise, but be painful.

Bellatrix stood and stared as Swithin flopped and writhed. She finally raised her eyes to Mr Riddle, who was gazing at her as though she were very interesting. After a very long while, Swithin Mulciber stopped making such a colossal fuss, and he moaned and groaned as he rolled slowly on ground.

Bellatrix looked back at Mr Riddle. "Is Mr Malfoy…"

"He has already been briefed on the situation in its entirety," Mr Riddle said. Bellatrix nodded, feeling amazed. So Abraxas knew that his friend was going to be tortured in his own house, and he was just standing back idly? He must have quite a lot of loyalty to Mr Riddle.

"Fuck you!" shouted Swithin Mulciber in a hoarse voice. "Fuck the both of you!"

"What did you say?" Mr Riddle pulled out his wand and walked to stand over Swithin, who rolled onto his back and spat,

"You heard me. Fucker!"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Mr Riddle whipped his wand through the air and jabbed it hard at Swithin Mulciber. The air was filled with a vibrant jade green light, and Bellatrix gasped and staggered backward in the bright blast. Then the office was still and quiet, and Bellatrix blinked a few times as she stared at Swithin Mulciber's unmoving form where he lay on the ground. He was staring up at the ceiling, his mouth open, frozen in death.

"My… My Lord…" Bellatrix breathed, her wand shaking in her hand. She stared at Mr Riddle, who sniffed lightly and wiped his lips with the back of his wrist. He mumbled,

"I wasn't actually planning on taking it that far, but… there it is."

"Will there be trouble for this?" Bellatrix asked, but Mr Riddle let out a low rumble of a laugh and whispered,

"No, Bellatrix. It's no trouble."

"He's dead," Bellatrix noted, stating the obvious and gesturing at the body. Mr Riddle narrowed his eyes at her and tipped his head.

"This troubles you?"

"No, not as much as it probably should," Bellatrix admitted. She pointed her wand at Swithin and asked, "What will you do with him? With the body?"

Mr Riddle shrugged. "Vanish him, of course. Why don't you do it? Make it so that he doesn't exist anymore, Bellatrix. Do you know the spell?"

Bellatrix licked her bottom lip and shook her head. No one had ever taught her how to Vanish a dead body. Mr Riddle did not mock her, though. He twirled his wand and smiled a little, saying patiently,

"_Corpus Evanesco._"

Bellatrix pinched her lips. She nodded, turning back to Swithin. She pointed her wand right at him and sighed. She remembered the way he'd shoved his cock down her throat, the way he'd made fun of her, the way he'd belittled her, the way he'd invaded her childhood bedroom without permission. She gulped and shut her eyes for a moment to steady herself, then opened her eyes and incanted firmly,

"_Corpus Evanesco._"

The body of Swithin Mulciber dissolved into thin air, Vanishing into the ether as though it had never existed at all. It was like he'd never been born, like he'd never lived, like he'd never died. But he had died, at the wand of Mr Riddle, after Bellatrix had castrated him in an act of supreme revenge.

"Bellatrix."

She lowered her wand and turned to face Mr Riddle. He nodded vigorously and told her,

"You did well. Very well. I am proud of you."

"Are you?" Bellatrix stepped closer to him. She wanted to bunch up his leather tunic in her fists and kiss him until their lips bruised. She wanted to peel their clothes off and get sweaty with him, skin to skin. She approached him, knowing her face and her mind were giving her away. He reached to tuck her hair behind her ear as she neared, and he told her,

"I have other business to conduct today. But I am available this evening. I might like to dine at Chez Mariel, the French restaurant not far from your flat. Shall I pick you up at seven?"

Bellatrix's lips parted. She met his eyes and tried to speak. She could not find words, all of a sudden. He looked a little confused, and he shifted on his feet. He cleared his throat.

"D'you not want dinner?"

"I do." Bellatrix felt dizzy. She gathered her wits and said, "Seven sounds perfect. Thank you. I shall dress… I won't embarrass you. I promise."

Mr Riddle smirked and shook his head. "No. You could never do that. Bellatrix, tell me what you think of what's happened here today."

Bellatrix nodded, glancing back to the spot on the rug where Swithin Mulciber had died. She sighed and looked up to Mr Riddle.

"Justice happened here," she said. "A very foolish, selfish, wicked man was served vengeance, and then was punished for his impudence. Justice was unfurled in this room today. And I am privileged to have been a part of it."

Mr Riddle looked rather affected then. He swallowed hard and took a half step closer to Bellatrix. He said softly down to her,

"Yes. You were expelled for a reason. You were needed here, not there. I shall see you at seven o'clock this evening. Good day, Miss Black."

She smiled at him and bowed her head, feeling like she needed to show him some sign of respect. She stood upright again and nodded.

"Good day, My Lord."

**Author's Note: Whew! It has **_**been a minute**_ **since I was writing this story. I had some serious real-life drama that prevented me from writing at all for a while, and then I wrote a quick story upon my return. But now I'm back to finish this tale, and I do promise it will get done! Thank you so very much if you are still reading this, and please know that feedback is treasured like gold.**


	9. Chapter 9

"_I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world…"_

Bellatrix's fingers twitched with anxiety as she listened to the Muggle radio and paced in her sitting room. She'd donned a knee-length black silk dress with fitted, long sleeves and a high neckline. She'd lined her eyes thickly with kohl and had put on pale, frosted lipstick. She'd used half a bottle of Sleekeazy's to straighten her hair until it was perfectly silky smooth, and then she'd yanked it into a ponytail high on the crown of her head. She was passably pretty tonight, she thought. She kept telling herself that. She was young, only seventeen years old, and she'd done herself up well. Still, she was terribly nervous.

"_Yes, I think to myself… what a wonderful world._"

Bellatrix shut her eyes as the song ended. She walked over to the radio and twisted the dial until it shut off. Then she stood in the silence of the flat, looking around and thinking how grateful she was to be here. How were the girls at the Dancing Doxy, she wondered? They were working now; it was very nearly seven o'clock. Clare and Marian and Veronique were probably all with men right now, making little mewling sounds to act as though they didn't hate the things the wizards did to them. The girls were probably lying naked under fat, ugly old men who had come to huff and puff and drill into them without mercy. And at the end of the week, each witch would get a small sum from Madam Sophie, and almost all of it would go to food and necessities. Bellatrix pinched her lips. That could still be her, she knew. If not for Mr Riddle, she would still be on her hands and knees with rascally old men behind her. She would still be kneeling before the cocks of wizards who tasted and smelled terrible. She would still be Scouring her body, taking the flush out of her cheeks, sniffling away tears. She would still be miserable, if it weren't for Mr Riddle.

Instead, she had castrated Swithin Mulciber, the most vile of the villains who had crossed her. Instead, she had watched Mulciber die, and she'd Vanished his corpse. Instead of spending her nights on the lumpy, violated mattress in her room at the brothel, Bellatrix was sleeping on a plush bed here in the flat that Mr Riddle had procured for her. For all of that, she knew, she would never, ever be able to properly thank him. Not ever.

There was a knock on the door leading from her flat to the corridor outside, and Bellatrix jolted. She cleared her throat and walked briskly to the door, her black heels clicking on the floor. She unfastened the chain lock and turned the knob, and when she opened the door, she smiled up at Mr Riddle, who stood before her in Muggle attire. He wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie, and he had a black trenchcoat on. He wore a black fedora on his head, which he pulled off as Bellatrix opened the door. He quirked up the corners of his lips at her and said in a quiet voice,

"You have straightened your lovely curls."

Bellatrix's smile vanished. She gulped and took a shaking breath. She shrugged. "I can undo it. If you hate it, I can -"

"No. No." Mr Riddle laughed a little and shook his head. "It looks nice. Took me by surprise is all. I ought not to have said anything; a wizard should never comment on a witch's appearance, I think."

Bellatrix said nothing to that. She blinked a few times and stared down at Mr Riddle's remarkably shiny dress shoes. She supposed he had to dress like a Muggle for them to go to a Muggle restaurant. And it wasn't as though Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black could show up for a meal together in The Leaky Cauldron. They were both rather notorious.

"Shall we go to dinner?" asked Mr Riddle, ripping Bellatrix from her reverie. She raised her eyes to him and nodded, stepping out into the basement corridor.

"Yes, of course," she said. He held up a hand and frowned.

"You'll be wanting your coat," he said. "It's cold out there."

"Ah. Right." Bellatrix retreated into the flat again and reached for the coat rack near the door. She pulled off the black velvet cloak and pulled it round her shoulders, tying the satin ribbon at her neck. She stepped back out into the corridor, shutting the door behind her and putting the key into the lock.

"Probably ought to Transfigure that cloak," mused Mr Riddle from behind her. Bellatrix finished locking the door and turned. She glanced down almost defensively and demanded,

"What's the matter with it?"

"It's a bit _witchy_," Mr Riddle smirked. Bellatrix choked a laugh and shrugged.

"It's what I've got."

"Not a problem," Mr Riddle said. He glanced around as though looking out for stray Muggles, and then he pulled out his wand. He jabbed and flicked it a few times, and suddenly Bellatrix's cloak began to warp and shift. It had sleeves, and it shortened. The hood went away, and soon enough it was a formal sleeved coat that resembled what fashionable-seeming Muggle women on the street wore. Bellatrix grinned, amazed by the ease with which Mr Riddle had conducted the Transfiguration. She shook her head and asked,

"May we go to dinner now, sir?"

"Quite so," he nodded, and he headed up the stairs of her building. He held the door for her as they walked out onto the sidewalk, and he seemed to know the way, so Bellatrix walked a half pace behind him. It was chilly, and her breath puffed before her as she told him,

"Please, I should like to pay for dinner."

"How do you mean to do that?" Mr Riddle asked, a bit sharply. Bellatrix squeezed at her drawstring purse.

"I've got money. Wizarding money. I can pay you. I earned a little at the Dancing Doxy."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Mr Riddle. "As though I could eat dinner with that money."

Bellatrix froze. She stopped walking, and Mr Riddle whirled round. He seemed confused by her sudden stop. She folded her hands before her, her eyes burning, and she told him,

"I worked very hard for that money, Mr Riddle."

His mouth fell open. He shook his head and licked his lip. "Yes. I know you did. It's still filthy money."

Bellatrix felt like someone had put a knife through her heart all of a sudden. She took a step backward, away from him, and asked,

"Am I filthy, too?"

Mr Riddle's brows flew up. He put up his hands and frantically shook his head again.

"No. Don't misunderstand. It is -"

"I think I understand perfectly well, Mr Riddle," said Bellatrix, narrowing her eyes at him. A Muggle couple went walking by on the sidewalk, and the woman in her fur coat looked awfully curious at the quarreling spectacle of a pair before her. Bellatrix waited for them to pass, and then she hissed at Mr Riddle, "You're trying to acquire followers, and you want the most bloodthirsty ones you can get. So you plucked a known merciless bully out of prostitution, put her up in a flat, and tested her appetite for violence. All the better that you whetted her appetite for you in such a way that she's like your little pet now."

"Pet! Bellatrix!" Mr Riddle looked angry. Bellatrix leaned forward and spat at him,

"You just want me to be your pet bully and to fuck you. All it costs you is a little flat and a few meals."

"That is not how it is!" Mr Riddle roared, so loudly that Bellatrix jolted. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she whirled around to see a middle-aged Muggle woman giving her a concerned look.

"You all right, love?" asked the woman. Bellatrix chomped her lip.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" the woman pressed. Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, but the woman vibrated and her eyes glazed over. She stood up straighter and said to Bellatrix, "Glad it's nothing to worry over. Have a good night, love."

She turned and walked away, and Bellatrix pursed her lips. It was obvious at once that Mr Riddle had Confounded the Muggle woman into leaving. She turned back, prepared to shout an insult at Mr Riddle, but she found herself staring right at him. He'd approached when she'd had her back turned, and now he was one pace away and she was glaring up at his face.

"I'm going back to the Doxy," Bellatrix threatened. "At least my work there -"

"Bellatrix." Mr Riddle was quiet now. He shut his eyes and shook his head. Bellatrix seethed through her nostrils and felt abruptly like she was going to cry.

"Why?" she demanded, her voice cracking.

"Why what?" replied Mr Riddle. Bellatrix threw her hands up, feeling very cold all of a sudden. Her legs were bare; they were freezing.

"Why did you take me away from working as a whore and give me a flat?"

Mr Riddle opened his eyes. He sighed, his breath forming an icy cloud before him.

"Because," he said in a calm voice, "you are wonderfully and beautifully Dark, and you are meant for much more than what you were doing. Because a soul like yours is not meant to be abused by pithy little men. Because I am building an army and I craved you for that purpose, anticipating that you could become my most valuable soldier."

Bellatrix's heart began to race. She remembered the awful nights at the Dancing Doxy, and she looked around the sidewalk as a car drove by, and she suddenly felt rather foolish.

"Why this?" Bellatrix whispered, staring at the street. A black cab whizzed past, and she flicked her eyes back up to Mr Riddle.

"Dinner, you mean," he guessed. "Why dinner."

Bellatrix nodded. Mr Riddle reached for her then, and she was surprised when he cupped her jaw in his hand. He brushed his thumb under her eye, and she swallowed hard. She tingled where he'd touched her, and it took everything she had not to lean into the contact. She watched his throat bob, and he told her,

"Dinner because… because I find myself rather entranced by you, Bellatrix. Somewhat smitten, in a most peculiar and embarrassingly boyish way."

"Oh." Bellatrix felt _very_ foolish now, and she thought her heart was going to thump right out of her chest and land on the sidewalk in a great bloody mess. She reached up and covered Mr Riddle's hand with her own, and her voice trembled as she asked him,

"Please, may I pay for dinner?"

He tipped his head and asked,

"Would it make you feel better if you did?"

"Yes." Bellatrix reached for her drawstring purse, and she sniffled a little as she opened it. She stared at the wizarding coins inside, wondering how they translated to Muggle money. She gulped and asked as politely as she could,

"How much would be appropriate for a meal at Chez Mariel? I don't know how much Muggle French food costs in wizarding -"

"You know, I'm feeling more like fish and chips tonight," Mr Riddle interjected. Bellatrix smiled sadly into her purse and pulled out two shiny Galleons. She handed them over to Mr Riddle, who promptly dropped one of the Galleons back into the purse and tucked the other one into his jacket pocket. He turned and started walking, off toward the chrome chairs and the fried food drenched in malt vinegar.

**Author's Note: Thank you so very much for joining me again on this story. I am so looking forward to picking it back up and exploring these characters in this context. Thanks a million for reading. Please do review.**


	10. Chapter 10

In the earliest hours of Thursday morning, Bellatrix woke up feeling profoundly unwell. She dashed out of her bed and scrambled through her bedroom until she reached the little bathroom. She crashed to her knees and gripped the edges of the toilet, and she gagged. She shut her eyes, retching and feeling vomit come surging up and burning her throat. She was sick over and over again, until it was bile coming up and she was exhausted. She finally flushed the toilet with a limp hand, laying her cheek on the seat of the toilet and whispering,

"Oh, no."

She staggered to her feet and stumbled out of the bathroom, back out through the bedroom and into the main living area of the flat. She went into the kitchen and took a glass out of the cupboard, filling it with water from the tap, and she sipped slowly. She felt sick again, but the wave of nausea eventually passed. Bellatrix set the glass of water on the counter and went back to her bed, crawling under the blankets and bringing them up around her head. She shut her eyes, feeling like the room was spinning.

Many hours later, she woke again, this time to the sound of knocking on the exterior door of the flat. Bellatrix jolted, rushing out of her bed. She reached for her emerald green satin dressing gown, and she threw it around herself as the knocking on the door sounded again. Bellatrix cleared her throat and called out,

"Coming!"

When she reached the door, she flung it open, and she rubbed at her eyes. Mr Riddle looked a bit concerned, staring down at her, and he mumbled,

"You all right? It's almost ten."

"Almost ten?" Bellatrix gasped. She showed Mr Riddle in, and she scoffed, "I can't believe I slept for so long. I must have been exhausted. Please, will you let me go get dressed quickly?"

"Yes, of course." He frowned, and Bellatrix nodded as she scurried off. But then a wave of nausea came over her, smacking her in the face and sending her dashing to the bathroom. She just barely made it in time to hug the toilet and retch into it, vomiting terribly. She threw up several times, and the nausea subsided eventually. Bellatrix let out a shaking breath and rose, going to the sink and rinsing out her mouth. She splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth, trying hard not to gag. She came back out to the sitting room where Mr Riddle was. He'd hung up his cloak and was pacing, and when she emerged from the bathroom, he demanded,

"When did you start getting sick?"

"Last night," Bellatrix sniffed. "Then I was tired. So tired."

"Any other symptoms?" Mr Riddle scratched at his hair a little, and Bellatrix gave him a puzzled look.

"I've probably just caught some sort of -"

"Do you think you're pregnant?" he blurted suddenly, and Bellatrix's mouth dropped open. She just stared at him, blinking a few times. She said nothing. He clarified for her, "To be feeling anything like this, you'd have to be relatively far along… at least five weeks or so. It would have been a customer at the Doxy. Someone being sloppy with the contraceptive charm, perhaps?"

"No." Bellatrix gulped, feeling her cheeks go hot. "No. I can't… can't be pregnant. That would be the worst thing in the entire world. Especially if I were carrying the bastard of some random fool who'd come in to…"

She began to cry then, for her breasts had been achy the last few days, and now she was wondering if Mr Riddle was right. Could she be pregnant?

"No. I'm just… I'm just unwell," she insisted. "I've caught some sort of stomach infection making me vomit. That's all."

"There is a simple potion." Mr Riddle approached her, and she backed away, knowing she must smell and look awful right now. He hesitated. "It would take me an hour to brew it up, and you'd never even know you'd taken it. You don't ever have to know the truth. You don't have to test or anything. If there's something to be erased, the potion will erase it. If there's nothing there, then we'll get you some Pepperup for your stomach bug, eh?"

"My Lord." Bellatrix chomped her lip hard. She shook her head and murmured, "What sort of a little idiot have I been?"

He closed the gap between them and tucked her hair behind her ear, saying,

"You were made to be with wizard after wizard, night after night. Spells fail, Bellatrix. I'm sure you were diligent. But sometimes magic fails. Who knows whose seed got through? You don't want to find out, do you?"

"No," Bellatrix spat. Her eyes seared like fire, and she choked, "What if it was him? Swithin Mulciber? Or someone like him, putting a child on me?"

"Why don't I go brew that potion now?" asked Mr Riddle, "and soon enough this will all be behind you?"

Two hours later, he was knocking on her door again, but this time Bellatrix had dressed properly and had made her bed and was ready to receive him. She'd thrown up one more time, and she'd brushed her teeth again. Her breasts felt hard and achy and she could have slept another twelve hours. She was sitting in an armchair, nursing a glass of water, when he knocked once more. She went to the door and let him in, and he hung up his cloak as he pulled a small purple vial from his trouser pocket. He held it out to Bellatrix and curtly instructed her,

"This is Vacuoventris Potion. It has a Vanishing effect, so there ought not be any bleeding or anything like you'd have with a miscarriage. Once you drink this vial, the potion will work in less than a minute. Then this entire wretchedness will be in the past. You'll never have to know which of the wizards who came into the Doxy put a child on you. And you'll never be a prostitute again, Bellatrix. I promise you that. You'll work for me. All right?"

"Yes. Thank you." Bellatrix plucked the purple vial from his fingers and uncorked it. She tipped it back without hesitation. What was there to hesitate about? She was only seventeen years old, and the man who had put her in this situation had been a terrible cur of some kind, a customer in a brothel. How could she possibly abide the situation? She slurped down the syrupy, sweet Vacuoventris Potion and winced at how cloying it was. She forced herself to swallow, and she corked the bottle again. She handed it back to Mr Riddle, and as he tucked it away, she began to feel strange sensations in her abdomen. There was mild cramping, and then a bloating feeling, and then a rush of cold. Then all those feelings faded, and Bellatrix felt abjectly normal. Even her breasts felt normal again, and she felt more energised. Not a trace of nausea remained over her head. She looked up at Mr Riddle and smirked.

"I think it worked," she told him. He gave her a knowing nod. He walked farther into the sitting room and took a seat in one of the chairs. Bellatrix sat opposite him, and she offered, "Can I get you a drink or a snack or something, sir?"

"I want to discuss with you," said Mr Riddle, "the idea of carrying out an assassination."

Bellatrix grinned. "Me doing it?"

"Yes," he nodded, "you doing it. I want a Mudblood killed and Vanished such that the Ministry thinks they've just disappeared. I'll choose someone who lives alone, ideally in the countryside. If I get you a name and an address, will you do it?"

Bellatrix bowed her head. "Of course I will."

"Of course you will." Mr Riddle let out a long sigh. She raised her eyes to him, and he licked his bottom lip.

"I'm going to the wedding of your cousin, Freya Rosier, to Saturn Malfoy. The wedding's being held at Malfoy Manor this weekend."

"Oh." Bellatrix gave a weak smile and nodded. "Freya and I used to play together all the time. She's two years older than me, and when we were children, our mothers, who were sisters, would get together often, so we would play. Then she was like a mentor to me at Hogwarts until… until I got myself into trouble. She and I haven't spoken since the expulsion. I hope she's doing well. Seems like she is. Marrying Saturn Malfoy."

Bellatrix realised she'd gone off on a self-pitying tangent, and she knitted her hands together in her lap. She swallowed hard and said,

"I hope you enjoy yourself at the wedding. The Rosiers always make sure to have plenty of Champagne and loads of good French cooking."

Mr Riddle nodded minutely. He dragged his teeth over his lip and noted,

"My invitation clearly stated _Mr Tom Riddle and Guest._ Will you go with me?"

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. She struggled for a moment to speak, and finally she pointed out,

"I can't, sir. My parents will be there."

Mr Riddle shrugged. "Let them see you there on Tom Riddle's arm, then."

Bellatrix blinked quickly, overwhelmed by what he was suggesting. She shook her head.

"I'll have slept with half the wizards in that ballroom."

"Well. Not _slept with_ them, surely," Mr Riddle joked, and Bellatrix gave him a sharp look.

"You know what I mean, My Lord. All of them… every last wedding guest… will be thinking terrible things about me. Bully. Troublemaker, Whore. And they will look at you, walking in there with me on your arm, and they will think less of you."

"No." Mr Riddle quirked up half his mouth. "No. The ones in that room who don't trust me will have their fears confirmed, perhaps, but the ones who are already loyal to me will realise that I've taken that… bully. That… troublemaker. I've made her one of my own. And those people, whether they were customers of yours or not, will begin to see you not as an expelled student or a fallen woman, but as a soldier in a movement."

"So you are inviting me to this wedding to try and improve my image?" Bellatrix asked. Mr Riddle looked almost helpless.

"I am asking you to this wedding because I want to dance with you," he said, "and because I was invited to come with a guest, and I should like for you to be my guest."

"Oh." Bellatrix shut her eyes and tried to imagine seeing her parents at the wedding. She opened her eyes and finally said, "I would love to go with you, My Lord. Thank you."

* * *

On Saturday, Bellatrix stood in her sitting room wearing the only truly formal gown she had these days. It was a black medieval-style dress, with sleeves that puffed at the shoulders and had silver threads criss-crossing down the sleeves and bodice. Bellatrix pulled half her hair back and tied it with a silver ribbon. She used more silver ribbon around her neck like a choker. She certainly couldn't pass for a Muggle like this, she thought. She pulled on her dark cloak and tied the ribbon round her neck, and she waited in the sitting room for Mr Riddle to arrive.

When he did, she pulled open the door to grant him entry, and he stepped inside looking devastatingly handsome in tuxedo robes. He had on a black bow tie and waistcoat, with a sweeping formal cloak over his crisp white shirt. He bowed his head and told Bellatrix,

"You look lovely."

"You're only saying that because you're realising you've made a terrible mistake deciding to bring an expelled whore to a wedding," Bellatrix guessed. Mr Riddle tipped his head and stared at her.

"You look lovely," he said again. "I mean it."

"Well, thank you, sir," Bellatrix nodded. "Shall we go?"

"Side-Along?" suggested Mr Riddle. Bellatrix laced her arm through his, and she stared up at him. He flashed her a tiny smile and reassured her, "It's going to be fine."

Then he Disapparated, disappearing from the spot and taking Bellatrix with him in a pinching black whirl, coming to just outside of Malfoy Manor.

**Author's Note: So Bellatrix was in a bit of a pickle, but leave it to good old Mr Riddle (hey, how much longer is he going to be called **_**that?**_**) to get her out of it. And they're headed for a wedding where Bellatrix's parents (and a bunch of former customers) will be present. What could possibly go wrong?**


	11. Chapter 11

"You are shaking like a leaf," said Mr Riddle, putting his hand over Bellatrix's where she had laced it through his arm.

"I'm anxious," she admitted. "Loads of people in there I don't want to see, and I know they don't want to see me."

"Well. Thank you for coming, just the same," he said as they reached the top of the stairs in the foyer. Bellatrix released his arm for a moment to strip off her cloak, and he took it along with his outer cloak, Banishing them into the room the Malfoys had set up to hold all the guests' outerwear. This was, after all, a winter wedding, and Bellatrix could see fuzzy red cloaks and vibrant purple cloaks and everything in between in the room. She walked beside Mr Riddle down the long corridor past his office, thinking it must be odd for him to be here, where he lived, with so many guests.

"Shall I take you in on my arm?"

Bellatrix looked up. Mr Riddle was holding his arm out, and she smiled just a little at him. She could hear the din of the crowd gathering in the ballroom, and she became more fraught with anxiety than ever. She slid her hand through Mr Riddle's arm and asked him,

"You aren't embarrassed to walk in there with me?"

"Not in the slightest," he assured her. He started off toward the ballroom, and once they reached it, the level of conversation lowered instantly. People went hush as they realised that Tom Riddle had just walked in holding Bellatrix Black. She gulped and looked around, recognising at least a dozen men to whom she'd given pleasure at the Dancing Doxy. She blinked and finally found her parents. They were standing with Bellatrix's maternal grandparents, the Rosiers, and they looked completely shocked.

"The ceremony will be starting in just a few moments' time," called the voice of Abraxas Malfoy, father of the groom. "Kindly gather in a circle round the dance floor, where the handfasting will take place."

Bellatrix moved with Mr Riddle over toward the dance floor, along with the flood of assembled Purebloods. Everyone let the little children up to the front of the big circle, and they left a gap for the bride and groom to walk in. This was a handfasting of the most traditional sort - no Muggle-style aisles and pithy recited vows. Tonight, two members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would be bound together in the way that witches and wizards had been bound for hundreds of years.

Bellatrix and Mr Riddle stood near the back of the circle, and Bellatrix could hardly see, for she was so short. Mr Riddle tapped her shoulder and leaned down, whispering,

"Shall I lift you up so you can see better?"

She giggled at that, and he smirked. Suddenly Bellatrix realised that her mother and father were directly across the circle from her, watching her intently as she interacted with Mr Riddle. Bellatrix found her mother's eyes and nodded, but Druella Black looked away, muttering something to her husband, Cygnus. Andromeda and Narcissa were at school; no one here was of Hogwarts age except for Bellatrix. She was meant to be at school, too, but she'd been expelled.

The sound of a single herald trumpet sounded, blasting out a fanfare. Everyone turned their attention and their gaze, and Bellatrix's cousin Freya appeared, holding hands with her intended, Saturn Malfoy. Freya looked absolutely beautiful, clad in a long-sleeved gown of white French lace. She had a crown of white flowers in her dark waves, and a veil of white lace fell behind her. She held a small bouquet of mixed white flowers in her left hand. Bellatrix could see that Saturn Malfoy, a sturdy twenty-year-old with ice-blond hair, was carrying an emerald green ribbon in his right hand. He led Freya into the centre of the circle, and the herald trumpet finished playing with a flourish.

"Friends and family," called Saturn, "We welcome and greet you."

"We honour and witness you," murmured everyone in attendance. They'd all been to traditional Pureblood handfastings before; they knew what to do and say.

"Friends and family," said Freya Rosier, "We come to pledge ourselves to one another forevermore."

"May your union be long and happy," replied the crowd as one.

Freya passed her flowers to her mother, Bellatrix's Aunt Celia, and then she held both of Saturn's hands. She declared loudly,

"Saturn Malfoy, I make myself your wife today. I promise myself to you, body and soul, heart and spirit, from this day until my very last. I shall cherish you, nourishing you with my affection and my devotion. This do I vow, with all that I am."

Saturn smiled at her, and Bellatrix could see that the faces of the crowd encircling them had grown quite happy. Saturn squeezed at Freya's hands and said,

"Freya Rosier, I make myself your husband today. I promise myself to you, body and soul, heart and spirit, from this day until my very last. I shall cherish you, nourishing you with my affection and my… my..."

His cheeks went red then, and Bellatrix realised he'd forgotten his line. Freya whispered something to him, and he quickly said,

"Nourishing you with my affection and my devotion. This do I vow, with all that I am."

A few wizards chuckled at the way Saturn had forgotten his vow, and the poor boy's cheeks stayed scarlet. He cleared his throat and unwound the emerald ribbon he had. Freya looked round and called,

"Kindly raise your illuminated wands to imbue our union with magic."

Bellatrix pulled out her crooked wand and raised it. "_Lumos._"

She held her glowing wand out with the others in a sea of glowing tips of light. Saturn began to wind the ribbon around himself and Freya, round their clasped left hands. They'd pulled their own wands out and were aiming them at the ribbon.

"I am yours, and you are mine, and we are bound in marriage from this moment forward," they said together. The ribbon pulled itself off of their wrists, unwinding itself, and tied itself neatly in a bow. Bellatrix heard people begin to applaud, and she snuffed out the light of her wand, tucking it away. Freya and Saturn kissed, and Bellatrix thought of all the times she and Freya had played as children, all the times they'd talked at Hogwarts. They hadn't talked since Bellatrix had been expelled. What would Freya say when she saw that Bellatrix had come to her wedding?

The ceremony dissolved into a sea of congratulations as people approached Freya and Saturn to wish them well, embrace them, and kiss their cheeks. Bellatrix backed away, noticing that there were high tables set up for eating the hors d'oeuvres and desserts that had been provided. Her stomach rumbled a little.

"Shall we get some food and drinks?" asked Mr Riddle. Bellatrix nodded, and she followed him toward the food. But then she heard a loud voice from behind her.

"Bellatrix Black, by my blooming eyes."

She whirled around and glared. Miles Selwyn. The bastard who had wounded her wrist at the Dancing Doxy and had been knocked unconscious by Tom Riddle - who had been masked at the time - in retaliation. Beside Bellatrix, Mr Riddle pinched his lips and warned,

"Mr Selwyn, unless you have some specific _business_ to conduct with Miss Black, I suggest you go ahead and enjoy your evening."

Miles Selwyn scoffed. He laughed at his friends beside him and told them,

"Last time I saw this tart, she was a whore in the Dancing Doxy. Like I told you."

"Last time I saw you, you'd been knocked out for assaulting me," Bellatrix seethed. "Shall we have a repeat?"

"Bellatrix," warned Mr Riddle, and she narrowed her eyes at Miles Selwyn.

"Enjoy the wedding," she spat. "Hope Madam Sophie found you a suitable replacement. You were _so_ eager to have me. So insistent. And you were just so terribly disappointed when I told you no."

Bellatrix turned away toward the table full of food, and there was a moment of calm. But then she heard Miles Selwyn yell after her,

"Glad I didn't have you, you slut! Probably would have caught something off of you! Dirty whore!"

He laughed, and there were titters and chuckles. Bellatrix stared at the silver tray full of sausages before her. She took a breath in and let a shaking breath out. Her plate trembled in her hand. Mr Riddle took the plate and asked quietly,

"How many of these sausages would you like?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes and whispered, "I dunno. Three?"

She opened her eyes and saw Mr Riddle using the tongs to put four little sausages on her plate. He handed it back and continued down the line of food. As they doled out cheese on their plates, he told Bellatrix,

"I can tell by using Legilimency… half the people here, including your parents, think that I am paying you to be here with me. They think you're still working as a prostitute, and that this is just a job for you."

Bellatrix scoffed. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Mr Riddle took a croissant and two strawberries. Bellatrix did the same. They walked away from the food and plucked glasses of Champagne off of a tray. They took an empty table, sliding into the chairs, and Bellatrix reminded Mr Riddle,

"I am a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I would have attended this wedding on my own even if -"

"Were you invited?" he asked. Bellatrix gulped. She stared at her parents across the room, at the way they were clutching Champagne flutes and talking with the bride and groom. Bellatrix chewed her lip and asked,

"So, how do I convince all of them that I'm here because you wanted me as your date and not because you've paid me to come?"

Mr Riddle's cheeks pinked. He dusted a finger over a strawberry and then picked it up, popping the end into his mouth and chewing. He set the rest down, sipped his Champagne, and said,

"A little affection wouldn't go amiss."

"Affection." Bellatrix grinned. "How do you mean?"

"What was allowed at the Dancing Doxy, and what was forbidden?" He dragged his fingers over the edge of his plate. "You'd sit on the laps of customers. You'd talk with them. You'd hold their hands. But what could you never, ever do when working, Bellatrix?"

"Kissing," she answered at once. "It was an offence that could get us sacked. It confused customers and working girls. It crossed lines. It was dangerous. No kissing under any circumstances whatsoever."

"You want to convince these people that you're here because I want you here and you want to be here?" He stared at her. "Then dance with me until they all stare, and then kiss me."

Bellatrix choked a little sound and shook her head. "You heard Miles Selwyn and how he thinks of me. Doing something like that would only damage you, My Lord."

"Bellatrix." Mr Riddle sighed heavily. "I ask it of you."

She stuffed a few bites of cheese and strawberry into her mouth and swigged down some Champagne, and by then the dance floor had opened. She was so nervous as she took Mr Riddle's hand that she felt a bit queasy. She let him lead her through the sea of people, all of them staring, some of them whispering. She could hear a few scant comments.

"... girl who got expelled for…"

"... heard she was working in the…"

"... what's he doing here with _her_, of all…"

"... bet she's working as an escort for him."

Bellatrix tipped her head up and tried to stay steady as she and Mr Riddle reached the dance floor. He pulled them into a neat dancing stance, and they began to sway. She smiled up at him and asked,

"Do you remember dancing to the Muggle music in my flat? Dancing in the Doxy with no music at all? You had a mask on then. It wasn't like this."

"It was just fine for me," said Mr Riddle. He gazed down at Bellatrix and insisted, "You were beautiful, in that moment when you Vanished Mulciber."

"Was I?" she laughed a little, and he nodded. She squeezed his shoulder and said, "You just wait until I Vanish that Mudblood for you."

He looked deeply affected by that, and he nodded.

"I've got a name," he said quietly. "Sable Rowland. She's a witch in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. She lives alone in Watchet, in Somerset. In a few days' time, I should like for you to take care of her for me."

"Sable Rowland," Bellatrix said in a firm voice. "Yes, My Lord. She'll be gone."

The song ended, so Bellatrix stopped swaying and let her hands slide off of Mr Riddle. He surprised her then by taking her face in his hands. He gazed down at her and whispered,

"Shall I do it now? Right here, right in front of everybody?"

"Only if you really want to," Bellatrix hummed back. She thought of her parents' glares, of the whispers from the crowd, of the awful things Miles Selwyn had said to her. She remembered the way Miles had injured her wrist, the way Mr Riddle had healed her up in her room at the Doxy. She stared up at him and realised just how affectionately she thought of him, just how deeply she was tumbling for him, and she reached up to hold his wrists. She could feel many dozens of eyes upon her, and she knew her parents were watching. She stepped closer to Mr Riddle and shut her eyes, letting them flutter shut as she whispered,

"Kiss me, please."

One of his hands left her cheek and went to the small of her back, pulling her closer. His other hand cradled her jaw, and he stroked carefully beneath her eye with the pad of his thumb. He bent down and touched his lips to Bellatrix's, and she gasped for air, opening her mouth in the process. He kissed her again, this time licking a little at her lip and pushing into her mouth, dragging his tongue over the roof of her mouth. Bellatrix tossed her arms up around his shoulders, knowing this couldn't last. They couldn't stand here snogging all night. He finally pulled away from her, and by then the ballroom was very quiet indeed. Mr Riddle smirked down at Bellatrix, flicking his eyes out to the crowd of revelers, and he suggested,

"I think they might be changing their minds on why you're here. Let's go get some more Champagne."

Bellatrix danced three more times with Mr Riddle. She kept thinking of approaching her parents, but every time she drew near to them, they scurried off as though they had important business elsewhere. They were very evidently avoiding her, and they quite plainly did not want to see or speak with her. By the end of the night, though, Bellatrix had managed a pleasant enough conversation with her cousin Freya, who was glad to hear that Bellatrix had found 'new employment,' and she'd also spoken with Abraxas Malfoy and his wife in an amicable capacity. Everyone else seemed to want to leave Bellatrix alone.

"Well?" Bellatrix asked as they Summoned their cloaks from the storage room. They were one of the first to leave, but both Mr Riddle and Bellatrix had agreed that they'd drawn out the experience for long enough. Now Bellatrix pulled on her cloak and asked, "Did I humiliate you, My Lord?"

She watched him shiver just a little, and she knew why. _My Lord._ She knew he liked it when she called him that. She smiled just a little at him, worried a bit that she had ruined his night. But he insisted,

"On the contrary, Miss Black. It was an honour and a privilege to walk in there with you on my arm. And I have to say, I quite enjoyed kissing you in front of all of them. Changing their minds was good fun."

Bellatrix laughed a bit. They walked down the stairs of the foyer and out the front doors, and they were almost to the Apparition Point when Bellatrix heard a voice from behind her.

"Bellatrix!"

She whirled round to see her mother Druella dashing after them. Bellatrix gasped. Druella had come running outside without a cloak. She wore a sleeveless, sequined black gown and looked frigid as she came running after her daughter through the gardens. Bellatrix walked toward Druella and resisted the urge to hold her arms out.

"Mum," Bellatrix said in disbelief. "Thought I was never to contact you again."

"You're here with _him_," Druella noted, pointing to Mr Riddle, "so you obviously are not working at that horrid whorehouse anymore. What are you up to in your life these days?"

"I've got a flat," Bellatrix said, leaving out the details. "A nice, proper flat. And I'm working as a… a…"

"She's my personal assistant of sorts," Mr Riddle cut in, and Bellatrix nodded vigorously. Druella raised her eyebrows.

"So you're doing honest work, and you've got yourself a place to live, and you're out of that wretched brothel now?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix, but her ears went hot and she impulsively said, "You and Daddy should know that most of my customers were Daddy's friends."

"Ah-ah-ah!" Druella held her hands up. "I don't want any details of that sordid life of yours. You got yourself expelled from Hogwarts for your terrible behaviour. You landed yourself in that brothel. I needn't hear any of the grisly detail, thank you. All that matters is that your life is clean now."

"And so am I welcome in your home again?" Bellatrix asked hopefully. "Am I welcome at family dinners over Christmas holidays when Cissy and Andy come home?"

Druella looked terribly sad, and she shook her head. "No, Bellatrix. How could you possibly expect… no. Be well. Mr Riddle. Good to see you."

"Druella," acknowledged Mr Riddle as Druella turned and trotted away. Bellatrix watched her go, and she turned back to Mr Riddle. They Disapparated in silence, coming to in the sitting room of Bellatrix's flat. Mr Riddle paced for a moment, and then he asked,

"Are you upset? About your mother?"

"No. If I were surprised, perhaps I would be upset," Bellatrix said. "The only surprising thing is that she came running outside in the first place. I want to focus on the good things that happened tonight. You kissed me. I danced with you so many times… I had a wondrous time, Mr Riddle. My Lord."

"Say that again." He was suddenly hovering over her, and she put her hands to his chest and gazed up into his eyes.

"My Lord," she hummed. "Please, won't you stay for a little while, My Lord?"

"Stay?" He tipped his head playfully and put his hands on Bellatrix's shoulders. She glanced back to her bedroom and stared at her bed for a moment, then looked up at Mr Riddle.

"Stay."

He quirked up half his mouth and nodded. "Yes. All right."

**Author's Note: Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo! All aboard the lemon express - probably to be written Monday since **_**Game of Thrones**_ **has its series finale tomorrow (!) If you are reading this, a hundred thousand thank-yous and a please do leave a review. Thanks very much!**


	12. Chapter 12

"I remember your _thing_," Bellatrix said as she backed into her bedroom. Mr Riddle unbuttoned his waistcoat and then pulled off his bow tie, already having shucked his outer robe.

"My _thing_," he repeated with a smirk. Bellatrix nodded. She began stripping off her dress, pushing it down over her body once she'd loosened the ties.

"You said that your _thing_ was to hold me," Bellatrix reminded him. "The last time we were in this room, that's what you said."

"Indeed," said Mr Riddle, wriggling his way out of his crisp white dress shirt. "I do very much crave the idea of holding you."

He unbuttoned his formal trousers, and Bellatrix gaped rather ungracefully as his thick cock sprang out. He was enormous, she thought again. How had a man this well-endowed not spent the last quarter century with a different girl every night?

"I've been busy," said Mr Riddle, and Bellatrix jolted. He'd been in her head with Legilimency. She gave him a look, and he seemed almost sheepish. "Sorry."

"It's all right; I've nothing to hide from you, My Lord," Bellatrix declared. "In a few days, I'm going to make Sable Rowland disappear. Will you kiss me when I've done it?"

"I'll kiss you now," said Mr Riddle. He stepped closer to Bellatrix, and she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black lace knickers. Mr Riddle put his hands on her wrists and shook his head. "Leave those on, will you?"

Bellatrix gave him a confused look but nodded. He got closer to her then, and he took her face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her lips delicately, just brushing his lips against hers. Bellatrix wanted more. She moaned up onto his mouth and whispered,

"That isn't enough, Mr Riddle."

"No? You need more?" He teased. "Selfish little creature. Shall I give you what you want?"

He squeezed her cheeks and pushed his lips harder against her. His cock was prodding her belly now, and she reached between them to stroke at him with one hand. Her other hand caressed his chest, which was toned and broad. She held his shoulder and folded his cock up against her, and she got closer as his tongue crept into her mouth. He brushed her tongue with his and then pulled her tongue into his mouth, suckling a little. He nibbled on her lip and grunted, and then he broke away and hummed,

"What about my _thing_, Bella?"

"You want to hold me?" She pressed both hands to the planes of his chest, her fingers convulsing a little as desire coursed through her veins. She'd gone wet between her legs, and her nipples were so erect they almost hurt. She rubbed up at his shoulders like a massage and whispered, "Tell me that you want to hold me."

"You know what I want," he growled back. "Let me hold you."

Bellatrix slid her hands down Mr Riddle's arms and snaked her fingers through his. She backed up toward the bed, and when they reached it, she tossed aside a few extra pillows and pulled back the white blankets. She crawled under the blankets and slid over, but she was surprised when Mr Riddle crawled behind her and quickly pulled her back against him, spooning with her in quite an intimate way. Bellatrix sighed, her breath shaking as one of his arms threaded round her and the other moved to fold his cock up against her back.

For a long time, they just lay there, breathing slowly, and Bellatrix wondered if he'd ever paid a whore to do this. He'd paid her for strange things - he'd paid to touch her, to pleasure her. Had he ever held a woman and paid for the right to do so?

"No." Mr Riddle pushed aside Bellatrix's hair and kissed the skin below her ear. She felt him pull up tightly against her back, and she relished the warm, encompassing feel of his body behind hers. Bellatrix let out a little noise of satisfaction and whispered,

"I really did enjoy dancing with you all night."

"Good. Thank you for being my date. I look forward to your work with Sable Rowland," said Mr Riddle. Bellatrix shut her eyes and imagined killing the Mudblood for him, making him happy and doing work for him. She could see the flash of green she knew would come. Could she cast the spell? Did she have the strength to do it? Of course she did. She would do anything for him, she reckoned. Anything at all.

"Bella…" Mr Riddle's voice was soft then, and she knew he'd been in her head again. He'd probably been hanging out in her mind all night. Somehow, she didn't care. She reached up and stroked at his jaw as he kissed beneath her ear again, and she murmured,

"I'll kill her and Vanish her, and I'll probably laugh like a maniac doing it."

"Bella." Mr Riddle was grinding against her back then, and she held fast to his face, gasping a little at the feel of his cock rubbing at the small of her back. She was soaking through her knickers with fluids of need, and she twisted her thighs against each other as she craved him more and more. She tipped her head back, and he caught her in a kiss, his hand flying to her chest and squeezing at her breast. His thumb dragged over her pert nipple, and his fingers compressed on the soft tissue. He massaged her and kissed her as she went absolutely mad with desire, flushing hot and tingling with ears that rang loudly.

"Oh, please," Bellatrix beseeched Mr Riddle, tearing her mouth from his. He panted and huffed against her mouth, kissing her swiftly before asking,

"Please what?"

"Please… take me now," Bellatrix whined. She'd never begged a man for sex, not like that. She was desperate. She felt like she was on the verge of coming where she lay. He squeezed almost roughly at her breast and kissed her again, and he slid his hand down from Bellatrix's breast. He reached into her knickers, and she gasped when his fingers touched at her clit and folds. He began sliding the pads of his fingers around, pushing with just the right pressure, and Bellatrix arched her back, complaining,

"You're going to make me finish."

"Good." He peeled back the curls that had fallen back onto her neck, and he leaned to kiss her there. Bellatrix cried out, overwhelmed by the combined sensations of being kissed on the neck on caressed on her clit. She seethed through clenched teeth and tried desperately to find a steady supply of air, but she felt like she was going to faint. Soon enough, everything within her was winding up tightly, like a string about to break, and she coughed out a noise of disbelief at just how good it felt. Suddenly she was tumbling, her walls contracting as Mr Riddle's fingers slid and pressed. She gasped and kissed him on the mouth, feeling his lips shaking against hers as he groaned loudly onto her. She was dizzy and felt weak as her knickers were slid down over her bum and hips, and she kicked them away under the blankets. She felt Mr Riddle's palm press against her lower abdomen, and he whispered in her ear,

"_Nongravidare Maxima._"

She was abruptly grateful for his skill with nonverbal, wandless magic, and she started to rotate to thank him. Surely he wanted her to ride him, or to penetrate her roughly from behind, or to hover over her. Perhaps he wanted to sit upright, or to get more creative than that. Bellatrix was, therefore, quite surprised when Mr Riddle wrapped her up in an embrace, both of them lying on their sides facing one another, and urged her leg up and around his hips.

"I told you that I like to hold you," he growled. "It's my _thing_, isn't it?"

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed. She felt him push into her body, a shallow but intimate penetration, and she wrapped her arm around him. She stared into his eyes as he rocked his hips, his thrusts slow and easy at first, then growing more urgent.

"Promise me it feels good," Bellatrix whispered. "Promise me you like it."

Her eyes burned suddenly. She'd never once really cared about whether or not her customers had been satisfied. She cared insofar as a disappointed man would complain to Madam Sophie and get her into trouble. But she didn't care about their pleasure or happiness. She cared about Mr Riddle. She cared if he was happy, if he felt good. She cared whether or not her body pleased him. He seemed to realise what the trouble was, and his lips curled up as he pumped his cock into Bellatrix over and over again. He nodded and vowed,

"It feels magnificent. I promise."

She slid up closer to him until her chest touched his, and she held the back of his neck. His own hand pressed between her shoulder blades, and she felt so close to him, so connected with him, that she could hardly breathe. She shut her eyes and then felt his lips on hers, and after a long, slow kiss, she whispered,

"I think my _thing_ is you, My Lord."

He choked a laugh, and then he grunted a few times. Bellatrix opened her eyes and saw his face twisting. He was finishing inside of her. She could feel it; she could feel him twitching and then felt the warm flow of his seed leaking down the inside of her thigh. Bellatrix kissed his cheekbone as he recovered, and she hummed,

"What a fine dessert to a delicious evening."

He cleaned them up, and after a few minutes of lying in silence with her cradled in his arms, he hauled himself to the edge of the bed and sat. He dragged his fingers over his hair and murmured,

"I suppose they've finished cleaning up from the wedding at Malfoy Manor now. I can sleep in my quarters in peace."

Bellatrix stared at him. She did not want him to leave, not one bit. She gulped, looking around her spartan little bedroom. He cleared his throat and held out a hand, wandlessly and nonverbally Summoning his clothes. They were balled up in his hands as he mumbled,

"Thank you, Bellatrix. For attending the wedding with me. For… this. I am truly looking forward to your work in a few days."

He pulled on his tight black underwear, standing up beside the bed. Bellatrix sat up, bunching the blanket around her chest, and said impulsively,

"Stay, will you? Please? My Lord?"

He stood wordless with his trousers in his hands, and he sniffed lightly.

"I ought not to," he said, "Probably."

"Oh. All right." Bellatrix blinked a few times. "I understand. Well. Thank _you_ for everything."

She searched under the blankets for her black lace knickers, and when she found them, she slid them on. She noticed then that Mr Riddle was still standing in silence with his trousers in his hands. She met his eyes, and she watched his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He finally tossed his trousers into a heap on the floor with his other clothes, and he crawled back into the bed.

"If I stay," he said with a little smirk, "you must promise not to mock the silly way my hair sticks up in the morning."

Bellatrix grinned and nodded. "Just wait until you see my curls after a night's sleep."

He tucked those curls behind her ear and kissed her forehead, and he whispered,

"You must let me hold you. All night. Or else I won't stay."

"That, I will gladly allow, My Lord," Bellatrix hummed back. He pulled her down, lying on his back and encouraging her to cradle her body up against his. She put her head against his chest and tucked her leg over his thighs. She wrapped her arm over him, and she watched him shut his eyes as he threaded his own arm around her. He breathed slowly and steadily, and after awhile, Bellatrix thought he'd fallen asleep. She was very nearly asleep herself when she heard him say in a groggy tone,

"Bella?"

"Mmm." She snuggled more tightly against him. There was a long pause, and then he asked,

"Are you happy?"

Her eyes burned behind her shut lids. She felt tears well up at once, and her voice sounded thick to her own ears as she affirmed,

"Yes, My Lord. I am happy."

"Good," he said rather firmly. "So am I."

He didn't say anything else after that. Even if he had, Bellatrix wouldn't have known. She was asleep before she knew it.

**Author's Note: Awwww, a nice Bellamort fluffy lemon. Now who's ready for Sable Rowland to get offed in Bellatrix's Very First Murder? Woo hoo! Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.**


	13. Chapter 13

Bellatrix had no Apparition licence, but she'd practised Apparition and Disapparition with the help of the girls in the Dancing Doxy, so she managed to successfully land in one piece as she materialised from the ether. Looking down at her body and realising she hadn't Splinched, Bellatrix choked out a little sound of glee and looked around. She was on the outskirts of Watchet, a charming sort of village in Somerset. Bellatrix headed down South Road, searching the faces of the Muggles who walked by and sniffing lightly in disdain. They were filthy. All of them. Disgusting specimens of derelict evil, she thought. She loathed every elderly man and every young mother who went walking by on the cobblestones. The sound of the Muggle children laughing in the distance grated at Bellatrix's ear, and even the sunlight here felt at once cold and oppressively bright.

Bellatrix turned left on Quantock Road, and she chomped on her lip as the reality of what she'd come to do settled into her veins. She was here to kill. She was here to commit murder. Did she have it in her? She'd been a bully in school. She'd hexed off a girl's hair and she'd tripped people down stairs. But did she have murder in her? Bellatrix thought of the way she'd Vanished the corpse of Swithin Mulciber. Would she have killed him, if she'd been given the chance? Yes, she thought. She would have snuffed out his life. He'd earned that fate, and she would have gladly delivered it to him. As for Sable Rowland? She was a filthy Mudblood. No better than the Muggles on the streets, and yet she'd claimed a place at Hogwarts and a job at the Ministry of Magic. Had she earned death? Yes, Bellatrix thought. Sable Rowland deserved to die today.

Number Thirty-Four, Quantock Road was a depressing cream-coloured row house sandwiched between its neighbours. Bellatrix strolled up to the front door and cleared her throat. She was banking on Sable being home, first of all, and being alone. Today was a Sunday, and it was cold outside. Sable ought to be at home. But Bellatrix was hoping sincerely that there was no one else in the house. She probably ought to have come to do this at night, but she didn't trust herself doing this kind of work in the dark. Perhaps once she grew more practised, but right now, she needed to see her prey.

She raised her hand and knocked on the door a few times, and she wondered whether she ought to just pull out her wand and kill Sable Rowland the second the woman answered the door. But, no. She needed to get into the house. None of the neighbours were outside. Bellatrix looked round to ensure that. Just the same, she started to panic. What if someone was looking out a window and would report to the Muggle police that a witch with wild black curls had entered Sable Rowland's house? Was this plan madness? Why had she come during the day?

But as Bellatrix looked around, she perceived no faces. No eyes. No one was watching. Suddenly the door at Number Thirty-Four opened, and a short, plump witch with short-cropped brown hair stood studying Bellatrix.

"Can I help you?" asked Sable Rowland.

"Miss Rowland? I'm from Gringotts," Bellatrix lied. "There's been an attempted break-in, and your vault was one of those affected. May I come in to discuss the situation?"

Sable's eyes went wide, and she beckoned for Bellatrix to come inside. As soon as they were in the house's cramped little foyer, Sable, shut the door and hissed,

"A break-in? At Gringotts? How is that possible?"

Bellatrix reached into her black Muggle-style coat and pulled out her wand. Sable's brows crumpled, and she asked quietly,

"What are you doing? Is something the matter?"

Bellatrix took a steadying breath. She had to do this now. She needed to do her duty to the man who had rescued her from prostitution, the lord she would serve as a soldier. She aimed her crooked wand at Sable Rowland and jabbed it forward, saying firmly,

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Sable Rowland's face twisted into an expression of confused disbelief in the split second before she died. In the glow of the jade green light, her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Then she crumpled, going utterly silent and still, and Bellatrix panted above her with the shock of what she'd just done. She stared at Sable's body for a moment and then waved her wand through the air.

"_Homenum Revelio._"

She got nothing in response. No one else was here. Good. Bellatrix pointed the tip of her wand at Sable, and it trembled a little in the air. Bellatrix seethed through clenched teeth as she whispered,

"_Corpus Evanesco._"

Sable Rowland's body dissolved into the air, disappearing just like Swithin Mulciber's had done. Bellatrix stood alone in Sable's house then, staring at the place where Sable had been. She did a few things in quick succession to cover her tracks. She locked Sable's door from the inside, then Scoured off her fingerprints from the lock. She Scoured away her boot prints from the floor. And then she glanced out the window at the top of the door and looked round the neighbourhood, ensuring that, as far as she could tell, no one was watching. Bellatrix huffed, feeling satisfied, and focused on the three Ds of Apparition. She stepped back from the door, shut her eyes, and thought of Malfoy Manor. She whirled hard to the side, vanishing into the cold, black ether for just a moment. She pinched and whirled for a second, then landed hard on her feet and opened her eyes.

She was standing at the bottom of the steps outside of Malfoy Manor, and she let out a nervous sort of laugh. She climbed the front stairs of the manor and raised her hand to the enormous knocker. The sun was starting to go down, and it was cold here in Wilshire. Bellatrix shivered as she waited for the doors to open, and she pulled her coat more tightly around herself. Eventually, the door swung open, and Dobby the anxious little House-Elf said,

"How may Dobby assist you, Miss?"

"I am here to see Mr Riddle," said Bellatrix. "I need to go to his office."

"Of course, Miss," said Dobby, and he stepped aside. "Shall Dobby take you, or does Miss know the way?"

"I can show myself," Bellatrix insisted. She climbed the stairs in the foyer and walked down the corridor leading to Mr Riddle's office. She knocked on his door, shaking where she stood. After a moment, the door opened, and Mr Riddle stood there, devastatingly handsome in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and an elegant dark green waistcoat. His lips curled up a little as he beheld Bellatrix, and he stared right into her eyes for a long moment before asking,

"Have you done it?"

She grinned, nodding. "Yes."

"Oh." His voice was just a whisper then. "Come inside."

She walked into his dark office, and as he shut the door, he said in a sly tone,

"I hate to say, _I told you so_, except that I absolutely knew you had this in you."

"It's why you saved me from the Doxy," Bellatrix remembered, watching him come into the room, "so that I could do things like this for you."

He tipped his head and leaned back against the paneled wall. His arms were sexy, she thought suddenly. She craved him. She gulped and said,

"I don't think anybody important saw me."

"Mind if I take a peek in your mind to see everything for myself?" Mr Riddle asked, and Bellatrix smirked.

"You're welcome in my mind whenever you like, My Lord."

He just stared again for a second, and then he murmured, "_Legilimens._"

Suddenly the entire thing was playing like theatre in Bellatrix's mind. Walking through the streets of Watchet, arriving at Sable's house, the lie about Gringotts, pulling out her wand, casting the Killing Curse, Vanishing the corpse, cleaning up the mess, coming back to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix felt the release of pressure as Mr Riddle pulled out of her head, and then he pulled away from the wall and walked toward her. He took her face in his hands and breathed rather quickly, bending down and kissing her without hesitation. Bellatrix gasped, holding onto the chest of his shirt and soaking in his kiss. His tongue crept into her mouth and dragged over the roof of her mouth, and she hummed up onto him. When at last he pulled his mouth from hers, he whispered,

"I am very proud of you. I knew you could do it, but, still… I am proud. Pleased."

"You are?" Bellatrix stared at his dark eyes. She blinked through the tears that were forming, and she told him, "I want to please you."

"You make me very happy." Mr Riddle stood upright and tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear. "Wait until the others hear about this."

"The others. Your followers," Bellatrix nodded. "You're going to tell them what I've done?"

"Of course I am." He scoffed as if she were quite silly to suggest otherwise. "Wait until the Ministry gets lost in the mess you've made. This is glorious, Bella. Glorious."

She smiled so hard then that her cheeks hurt, and she watched as Mr Riddle slowly broke into a grin he did not seem able to contain. He held her face again and said more seriously,

"You have killed a Mudblood for me today. We need to celebrate properly. Let me take you out."

"Out." Bellatrix laughed a little and dragged her teeth over her lip. "Out where, My Lord? Fish and chips?"

He scowled playfully and shook his head. "No."

"Ooh. French food?" Bellatrix prompted, but Mr Riddle's happy smile faded, and his voice deepened a bit as he suggested,

"The Leaky Cauldron."

Bellatrix froze. Her own broad grin disappeared, and she bowed her head. Mr Riddle's hands fell from her cheeks, and she stared at his shiny shoes for a moment before she said,

"I think you know that we can't go to the Leaky Cauldron, My Lord."

"Why?" he snapped. "Because people will think we are _together?_ They already saw us dancing and kissing at your cousin's wedding, Bella, so -"

"Because you are you, and I am me." Bellatrix raised her eyes, a single tear boiling over one of them. She shook her head and coughed out a bitter little laugh. "You are the Dark Lord rising into position, and I am nothing but an ex-whore."

His face twisted, and his throat bobbed. He sighed and snarled at her,

"Where did I grow up?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I beg your pardon?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Where did Tom Marvolo Riddle grow up?"

Bellatrix licked her lip. She knew of him only what her parents, who had attended school with him, had told her. He was a Half-Blood, she'd been told.

"I was raised by filthy Muggles in an orphanage," said Mr Riddle through clenched teeth. "Now I mingle with the Purebloods. They don't look down on me because I have earned my way to respect. You killed the enemy today, Bellatrix. Anyone who looks down on you can answer to me."

Bellatrix was crying wholesale now, and he reached up to brush away her tears. She stared up into his eyes again and asked,

"But don't I embarrass you?"

"Not even a little bit," he replied. "Quite the contrary."

Bellatrix stepped closer to him. "So you don't mind the idea of eating cottage pie and drinking Butterbeer with me in Diagon Alley? Even if people think we're together?"

Mr Riddle sighed very heavily and leaned down to kiss Bellatrix on the lips again. He was delicate, careful, and he stroked at her hair. When he pulled back, he whispered against her mouth,

"Would it be the very worst thing? If they thought that?"

Bellatrix was breathless then. Could they be _together_, the two of them? Could she be his like that? It was still not so very long ago that she'd been a prostitute at the Dancing Doxy, her body being systematically abused by wizard after wizard. The idea of being _together_ with any wizard at all had been unfathomable at that point. Now she was being kissed by the Dark Lord ascending, being asked by him if would really be so bad for people to think they were _together. _Bellatrix reached up and held his jaw, and she murmured,

"I wouldn't mind, My Lord."

"Then let's go celebrate," said Mr Riddle, standing up, "at the Leaky Cauldron, and we shall have cottage pie and Butterbeer, and people will see us there, and they can think whatever they like."

He laced his fingers through hers and led her toward his office door, and Bellatrix grinned like a madwoman.

**Author's Note: Yeah! Go Bellatrix! And these two are definitely getting serious. So what progress will Bellatrix make with her parents and with the Pureblood jerks once it becomes more obvious that she's **_**with**_ **Mr Riddle (and **_**when**_ **is he going to earn the title of Voldemort?!) Thanks as always for reading, and a hundred thousand thanks for reviewing.**


	14. Chapter 14

"Coming!" Bellatrix spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. She shut off the tap and dashed out of the bathroom, running across the sitting room as the knocking on the door sounded again. She reached the door, barefoot in leggings and a black tunic, and she flung the door open. She grinned when she saw Mr Riddle, and she beckoned for him to enter. "Hello, My Lord!"

"Morning," he said lightly. Bellatrix shut the door behind him and prompted him,

"Tea?"

"Yes. Thank you." He took off his traveling cloak and hung it on the rack near the door as Bellatrix made her way into the kitchen. She pulled two white teacups out of the cupboard and used her wand to cast twin _Aguamenti_ charms, filling them with water. She heated the water with a Calidaqua Charm in each cup, and she reached for her crockery container of tea bags. She plopped one in each cup and asked,

"Milk or sugar, sir?"

"Neither. Thank you."

She looked up as the tea steeped, and she flashed him a little smile. He gulped, and his lips twitched a little. He scratched at his hair and asked,

"Have I come too early for you?"

"No. I was just starting my day." Bellatrix turned back to the cups, and, satisfied that the tea had steeped, she Vanished the bags. She carried the cups on a tray into the sitting room, and Mr Riddle followed her lead in sitting in one of the wingback chairs. He sank down and gratefully accepted the cup of tea that Bellatrix handed him. He sipped at it, sighing and staring at her for a moment. She asked rather playfully,

"Did you just come for tea?"

"No. I…" He held his tea cup in his left hand and used his right to reach into the breast of his robe. He pulled out a folded newspaper - _The Daily Prophet. _He handed it over to Bellatrix and said, "This came by owl an hour ago to Malfoy Manor. Thought you might like to see."

Bellatrix raised her brows and set down her tea. She unfolded the newspaper and read the blaring headline that was sprawled across the front page, accompanied by a photograph of a rather familiar-looking plump witch.

_MINISTRY OFFICIAL SABLE ROWLAND MISSING, FEARED DEAD_

Bellatrix looked up at Mr Riddle and grinned. He smirked a bit and sipped from his tea as he urged her,

"Read the story."

_Ministry of Magic employee Sable Rowland was declared missing by her parents late Sunday, with the missing persons file issued first to Muggle police, owing to Ms Rowland's Muggle-born status. Muggle police and Aurors eventually searched Ms Rowland's home, which was locked from the inside and empty, and found no trace of Ms Rowland. However, the keys to her car (a Muggle transport device), her broomstick, her identification, and money (both Muggle and magical) was found. Additionally, Ms Rowland's pet cat was found inside the home. Ms Rowland's parents assert that she would never have deliberately left her cat. No suicide message, nor any warning of suicidal behaviour to family or friends, was indicated. Therefore, the Auror force has concluded that Ms Rowland's disappearance is highly suspicious. She is feared dead, after several days missing._

'_Our greatest fear is the so-called Blood Purity Movement,' said Alice Silverman, an Auror spokeswitch. 'Those who operate under the idea that Muggle-born witches and wizards are somehow lesser are gaining momentum and getting bolder. Sable Rowland was Muggle-born. We fear that extremists are connected with her disappearance.'_

_When asked whether the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had concrete evidence tying any suspect to Ms Rowland's disappearance, Ms Silverman demurred._

'_The public will know as soon as we have more information to share about this case,' she said._

_For now, the disappearance of Sable Rowland remains a tragic mystery._

Bellatrix laughed almost uproariously as she folded the newspaper again and set it on the table before her. She clasped her hands together and exclaimed,

"Oh, but it's marvelous."

"Yes, it is," said Mr Riddle. Bellatrix clapped happily and asked,

"The others? When they heard, were they excited?"

"Most everyone I've told has been terribly impressed," said Mr Riddle, "including your father."

Bellatrix's grin faltered. "My father. You told my father?"

"I did." Mr Riddle licked his bottom lip. "I wanted him to know that his daughter is working for me, doing _good_ work for me, and that she is responsible for our greatest triumph yet."

"And what did he say?" Bellatrix's lips felt numb. Mr Riddle hesitated, but then he said,

"He said the words, _I suppose she's trying._"

Bellatrix's eyes watered. She nodded and whispered, "Thank you, My Lord."

"You have made me very happy," he said seriously. She met his eyes, and he held the arms of the chair, having set down his tea, as he said again, "I am very happy."

"Good." Bellatrix dragged her teeth over her lip. "I can't wait to work for you again."

"Soon," he affirmed. "But first… another owl came this morning. This one was an invitation."

Bellatrix frowned, then realised what time of year it was. She gave him a knowing look and said, "The Grand Christmas Celebration. Of course. Whose turn is it to host this year?"

The ultra-formal, extravagant Christmas celebration Purebloods relished attending every year was hosted in turns by members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Hosting was a chance to show off one's manor and the magical skill of one's House-Elf.

"It's Yeoman Yaxley's turn," said Mr Riddle. Bellatrix scoffed. She'd had sex with Yeoman Yaxley when he'd been a customer of hers.

"Poor Quella Yaxley; this will send that awful anxiety of hers through the roof. They've only just barely got the space for all those people."

"Hm. Just the same," said Mr Riddle, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, "I shall require a date."

Bellatrix just stared for a moment. Then she shook her head, stammering, "M-My Lord. First my cousin's wedding, then dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, now the Christmas Party? People will think -"

"That we're together, you and I? Good. I hope they do think that." Mr Riddle nodded. Bellatrix's lips parted, and she rose slowly to her feet. She breathed quickly as she walked over to Mr Riddle. So he really did want her to be his? He really did want her for his own? Bellatrix gulped and had a sudden thought. She was going to embarrass him again. She was going to have to wear the same dress she'd worn to her cousin's wedding, for it was the only formal gown she had. She had a little money from The Dancing Doxy, but not enough for a proper gown befitting the formality of the Purebloods' Christmas extravaganza. Bellatrix stood before Mr Riddle's chair and slowly shook her head.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't come."

He scowled. "Because of the dress?"

She realised he'd been in her mind with Legilimency, and she puffed a breath as she declared,

"I won't make a fool of myself, wearing the same thing I wore to Freya and Saturn's wedding. And I didn't earn the sort of money to -"

"There is quite a simple solution to this problem," said Mr Riddle, and he reached into his robes. He pulled out a heavy-looking drawstring bag, and when he opened it and reached in, it was obvious it was Expanded. He pulled out a fistful of coins, but Bellatrix grasped his wrist and shook her head wildly.

"Mr Riddle," she said in a sharp voice, "I could not possibly allow you to pay for something as silly as a gown."

"So I'm meant to go without you, then?" Mr Riddle snapped, and he looked rather offended. He gripped his Galleons more tightly and insisted, "I would much rather buy you a new gown and have you with me, if you please."

"Are we really going to argue about buying clothing?" Bellatrix demanded incredulously, releasing Mr Riddle's wrist. He swallowed visibly, stared down at the Galleons in his hand, and whispered,

"Apparently not."

He was quiet for a long moment, dragging his thumb over one of the Galleons, and then he raised his eyes to Bellatrix and said in an angry voice,

"I like to give you things."

Bellatrix blinked. She shook her head and said quietly, "I can buy my own clothes, My Lord."

"For goodness' sake, Bellatrix. Set aside your pride. You've just said that you haven't the money. I will not have you miss the Christmas party over something like a dress. Please. Accept a few Galleons so that you have something nice to wear."

Bellatrix nodded at last. "So that I don't embarrass you."

He sighed. "So that you have something nice to wear. This is the part where you say _thank you_."

Bellatrix finally quirked up her lips a little and nodded.

"Thank you, My Lord."

* * *

Bellatrix felt eyes upon her as she walked down Diagon Alley. She ignored the gazes and pulled her hood more tightly round her face. It was busy today; people were Christmas shopping. But when she went into Twillfit and Tattings, she was the only one in the shop. The bell above the door prompted the voluptuous and haughty seamstress, Madam Lynnen, to come walking out from behind a curtain. She'd made most of Bellatrix's clothes for years before the expulsion. Madam Lynnen was a pretty witch of about fifty, with greying auburn hair and a face that she kept smooth with creams and powders. Now Madam Lynnen gaped as Bellatrix lowered her hood, and she clapped her hands together in surprise.

"Bellatrix Black!" she exclaimed. "How good to see you. We'd heard… well… we were worried about you."

"No need to worry, Madam Lynnen," said Bellatrix. "I am quite well."

She had considered going to the Dancing Doxy to visit the girls who worked there, to check on Clare and Veronique and all the others. But she realised it would ruin everything if she were seen walking in there. So she'd stayed in Diagon Alley and had come straight to Twillfit and Tattings. She took off her cloak now and Banished it to the hooks by the door.

"I am in need of a gown," she told Madam Lynnen. "For the Christmas party."

Madam Lynnen's brows went up. Bellatrix knew why. Madam Lynnen had not been expecting Bellatrix to be attending the Christmas party. In all likelihood, nobody at that party would be expecting Bellatrix to come. But she pinched her lips into a line and asked,

"Have you got something different enough from what the others are wearing? I'm sure you've dressed quite a few already for the event."

"Indeed!" Madam Lynnen went to the racks on one wall and looked Bellatrix up and down. "So thin. You've always had such a fine figure. But short; we'll have to hem it. You've preferred black for ages… how about this?"

She held up a black velvet gown, long-sleeved with a very high neckline. It had a wispy black cape that appeared to reach the floor. There was a heavy silver belt slung low around the hips of the gown.

"It's… regal," Bellatrix declared, and Madam Lynnen said,

"It's a weighty gown. I wouldn't put it on most witches, but I think you've got the presence to wear it. Shall we give it a try?"

Bellatrix liked the gown, very much indeed. She liked the way it fit her form and fell heavily to the ground. As Madam Lynnen used her wand to server and hem, Bellatrix stared at her reflection and thought to herself that perhaps, just perhaps, she would not embarrass Mr Riddle wearing this. Perhaps she might even make him proud. And that, she thought, was all she wanted to do these days - to make him proud and happy. She smiled a little into the mirror, deciding at once that she would make him happy if it were the last thing she ever did.

* * *

"Coming!"

Bellatrix stalked like a wraith through her flat and cleared her throat at the door. She took a steadying breath and then opened it, and she tipped her chin up.

"Good evening, My Lord."

"Bella." His mouth had dropped open, and he gaped at her over the threshold. She had tried _very_ hard to look pretty tonight. She had put on shiny scarlet lipstick that she'd Enchanted to stay. She'd lined her eyes darkly. She had braided her hair into a crown wending its way atop her head. She was wearing her incredible new caped gown of black velvet and wispy tulle. She studied Mr Riddle in his tuxedo robes, deciding he was almost criminally handsome, and she smiled at him as he followed her into the flat. She shut the door and told him,

"You're so handsome."

"Bella, you look…" He licked his lip and seemed almost nervous. He coughed into a fist and finally said, "Beautiful. You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Bellatrix felt rather powerful, if she was honest with herself. "Shall we go?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Yaxley House in Peterborough," he said. "Do we need to go by Side-Along?"

Bellatrix almost told him that she could do it herself, that she was perfectly capable of Apparating there without him. But she sensed that he wanted to help her, so she snaked her hand through his arm and murmured,

"I am not going to let any of them humiliate me tonight. I have decided."

"I think that is a magnificent idea," said Mr Riddle.

"And I am going to speak to my father," Bellatrix added. She looked up at Mr Riddle, and he nodded down to her.

"What a night it shall be," he said. "And away we go."

The vanished from her sitting room in a pinching black whirl, and they came to at the bottom of the steps of a large Georgian manor. Bellatrix quickly ascended the stairs with Mr Riddle, and she mumbled,

"I forgot my traveling cloak. Silly me."

"You can have mine on the way out," he told her. She smiled a little. He was protective of her. She liked that. Why did she like that so much?

Inside the manor house, they took a left and entered a sweeping ballroom with crystal chandeliers and sunny, pastoral paintings on the panels between the mirrors. This was a much brighter setting than Malfoy Manor. There was a tall, thin Christmas tree exploding with glistening, Enchanted ornaments and garlands that twinkled to the cue of magic. There was more garland strung through the hall. A bewitched string quartet was playing Christmas carols, and people were dancing already. Others were mingling, snacking, or getting drinks. Bellatrix started to pull her hand from Mr Riddle's arm, but he touched at her fingers and asked,

"Shall we dance?"

"What, right now?" she giggled, and he was rather serious as he said,

"Set the tone for the evening."

Bellatrix could not help but roll her eyes a little as he guided her out to the dance floor. She let him pull her into a close dancing stance, and she stared up at him as she murmured, not for the first time tonight,

"You are so handsome."

He scoffed. "How easily you appear to overlook the most obvious problem in all of this."

"What do you mean?" Bellatrix furrowed her brow, and she watched his throat bob as they swayed. He reminded her,

"I am twenty-five years older than you."

"And?" Bellatrix shrugged. "I don't mind."

"You might mind someday." He drew his thumb over hers and said, "When you're thirty and I'm fifty-five, you might mind. When you're forty-five and I'm seventy, you might mind."

Bellatrix carefully licked at her lip, focusing on the feel of dancing with him, and said, "I don't mind now, and I wouldn't mind then. I don't mind."

"You don't find me to be an old man?" Mr Riddle asked, and in his eyes she saw a flash of doubt. She shook her head and assured him,

"I find you to be a powerful, ascending, intelligent, skilled, handsome man. My Lord."

"I want to kiss you," he said, "but if I make a habit of doing that at parties, people might think we're a bit odd."

She giggled, and she tipped her head against his chest. Suddenly someone was very close, and when Bellatrix looked up, she stopped dancing. Quella Yaxley, the tall, thin witch who was hosting this party, had walked right up to Bellatrix and Mr Riddle, and she did not seem happy.

"You. What are _you_ doing here?" Quella hissed. Bellatrix gulped.

"Madam Yaxley," Mr Riddle began, but Quella whispered with venom in her tone,

"Yeoman came home very late a few nights. He finally admitted to me where he'd been. We worked with a counsellor to heal our marriage, and part of it was learning the truth. Well, I learnt the truth, you little slut. I learnt that my husband went to the Dancing Doxy and fucked a little girl named Bellatrix Black a few times. Whore! Get out of my house."

"Madam Yaxley," Bellatrix said, her voice shaking under the weight of Quella's rage, "Yeoman came to the Doxy of his own volition, and I was only doing my job - a job, which, by the way, I had no choice but to do. I'd been kicked out of my parents' home and had nowhere to go."

"I don't need your sob story, you wretched little whore," said Quella Yaxley. "Get out of my house right now, or I shall have you removed by force. And don't you try Confounding me, Tom Riddle; Yeoman knows to have the slut booted out."

Bellatrix glanced beyond Quella to see her parents and her sisters standing with the Malfoys, chatting animatedly. They were paying her absolutely no attention. They didn't care that she was being kicked out of the party. Bellatrix studied the other faces in the room. People were drinking, eating, talking, dancing. But nobody seemed concerned with Quella's outburst. Bellatrix felt like crying. Did no one care that she'd bought a magnificent gown with Mr Riddle's money just for this party?

"Please, Madam Yaxley. I won't make trouble." Bellatrix's voice was thick as she turned back to Quella.

Mr Riddle cleared his throat. "Madam Yaxley, I think you and Yeoman should -"

"Oh, that's quite enough out of _you_," spat Quella at Mr Riddle. "Debasing yourself with a slut like this. Kissing her. Taking her to the Leaky Cauldron. Heard about that. You like your witches good and broken in, do you?"

"How dare you?" seethed Mr Riddle. He laced his fingers through Bellatrix's fingers. "Come on, Bella; we're leaving."

"Yes. You are. You are not welcome here," spat Quella Yaxley. "Get out of this house, the both of you. What a disgusting pair. I'll have to Scour the room once you've gone."

Bellatrix's eyes welled so badly then that she couldn't see, so she let Mr Riddle guide her as they strode briskly out of the ballroom. She followed him and choked out a shaking breath as he Disapparated. Once they landed inside her sitting room, she collapsed onto his chest, shaking with sobs as he wrapped an arm around her.

**Author's Note: Welp, we have a new villain - Quella Yaxley! (Boo! Hiss!) So how will Bellatrix and Mr Riddle comfort each other through the fact that they collectively just got kicked out of the biggest Pureblood social event of the year? Hmm. *rubs hands together* Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.**


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whined against Mr Riddle's chest. "I'm so sorry. I've ruined everything."

"Listen to me." Mr Riddle pulled her back and glared down into her eyes. "Bella. You did _nothing_ wrong. Nothing at all. Have you got wine? We're going to need a lot of it."

"Wh-what? In the… erm… in the kitchen." Bellatrix sniffled and watched as Mr Riddle made his way by her and into the kitchen. He opened her refrigerator and mused,

"We never ate anything. I'm starved."

Bellatrix just shut her eyes. They'd never eaten anything because they'd been kicked out of the party before they could have any hors d'oeuvres or desserts. When Bellatrix opened her eyes, Mr Riddle had quite determinedly pulled out a block of cheddar cheese, and was snatching a box of crackers from beside the refrigerator. Bellatrix watched him work then as he brought down a tray and began slicing up the block of cheese. He put a stack of crackers on the tray, and then he put two large wine glasses beside the food. He selected a bottle of red wine from the low rack on the counter and used his wand to uncork it, pouring wine into the glasses. He set the bottle on the tray and brought the whole thing with him into the sitting room, sinking down into a chair and setting the tray down on the table. Bellatrix hesitated for a moment before going to sit opposite him, looking down and suddenly feeling quite foolish for spending so much of his money on her gown.

"Don't be silly," he said. "You look beautiful."

He reached for a cracker and a slice of cheese, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open a little. She stared at Mr Riddle and murmured again,

"I have ruined everything."

"Quella Yaxley ruined everything," Mr Riddle snapped. He snatched a glass of wine and then wandlessly Banished the other one into Bellatrix's hands. She swigged at it, rather brazenly, and she insisted,

"I wasn't expecting him to tell her. I wasn't expecting him to admit to her that he'd come to the Doxy."

"Did he hurt you the way Mulciber did?" Mr Riddle's voice was gentler, quieter then, and Bellatrix chewed her lip as she stared into her wine.

"No," she said honestly. "He was… it wasn't pleasant with him, to be certain, but he never did me any harm. He was just a customer. Nothing more, nothing less."

There was silence then, and when Bellatrix looked up, Mr Riddle's eyes were a bit strange. He finally said,

"I have no right to be jealous, I know. Especially when you had no choice. Still, it nauseates me, thinking of those wizards being inside of you."

"Well, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said, sipping deeply from her wine. "You're right. I didn't have very much of a choice. Believe me, I would like very much to have been able to tell Quella Yaxley that she was mistaken and that I never had anything to do with her husband."

"Promise me something," said Mr Riddle, and Bellatrix nodded. He licked his lip a little and hummed, "Promise me that you enjoy it with me."

"Oh, yes," Bellatrix answered at once. "Very much."

He was quiet for a long moment then. Bellatrix heard the trickle of rain start to fall outside the windows. It must be an awfully cold rain, she thought, shivering a little where she sat. She met Mr Riddle's eyes and asked him,

"What are you going to do to Quella Yaxley, My Lord?"

"What am I going to do to her?" He reached for another cracker with some cheese. He took a bite, chewed, and sighed. Then he washed the bite down with some wine, chewed another bite, drank more wine, and set his glass down. He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair and said at last, "I can't do anything to her. There are many things I should like to do to her after tonight. Booting you and me out of a party like that, calling you names… trust me. There are a good many things I wish I could do to Quella Yaxley."

"But you can't do anything to her?" Bellatrix was confused. Wasn't Mr Riddle the Dark Lord rising? Wasn't he powerful? He shook his head minutely and said,

"Yeoman Yaxley is one of my allies. I need his loyalty, and more importantly, I need the loyalty of his friends - Avery, Nott, Lestrange…"

"Yes, I know them well." Bellatrix bitterly swigged more wine, thinking of each wizard hovering above her or taking her from behind. The Purebloods certainly had a taste for whores, and the men of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had been especially fond of Bellatrix, owing to her noble ancestry. She'd had all of those men at the Doxy. Lestrange had only come once, having been dragged there by Avery, who had convinced Lestrange that he simply _had_ to '_have a go at Cygnus' little girl.' _Bellatrix shuddered at the memory, and when she looked up, Mr Riddle's face had twisted a little. She knew he'd been in her mind with Legilimency again, and her lips parted in apology. But he finished off his wine, pouring some more as he said,

"I need loyalty and money. I can't afford to lose it. And I am neither powerful nor rich. Not really. I am climbing, Bellatrix, but I am nowhere near the top. A witch like Quella Yaxley could bring it all down. Yes, she still has the power to send me out of a ballroom. Someday, I will have the power to punish her for it. But it isn't today."

Bellatrix drank the rest of her wine and poured herself a second glass. The icy rain outside lashed at the windows, and Bellatrix sniffed lightly.

"You just let me know what I need to do to help you become more powerful, My Lord," she said. "Any task you can assign me to that end, I shall gladly accept. Your advancement is my aim, my foremost goal. I hope you know that."

"Bella." Mr Riddle licked his bottom lip a little and sipped his wine. He tipped his head back against the chair and let out a long breath, shutting his eyes. "When I first arrived at Hogwarts, a girl of most noble blood made it her objective to torment me, to torture and bully me because I was a _disgusting Half-Blood mucking up Slytherin_, and even more embarrassingly, because I was an orphan raised by Muggles."

Bellatrix scowled. She took a sip of wine and stared down into the dark liquid. She mumbled inquisitively,

"How could anyone bully _you_, My Lord? You seem like you could stand up for yourself perfectly well."

"I could, and I did," he said. "The bullying didn't last long. Not even when the offender was the lovely, aristocratic Druella Rosier."

Bellatrix's face snapped up. "My Mother?"

He smirked, staring up at the ceiling and seeming lost in a memory.

"I gave her flowers," he said. Bellatrix said nothing to that, waiting until he continued, "In the spring, once she'd given up on trying to wound me, I plucked a bouquet of flowers for her from the school grounds. Even I couldn't properly Conjure them, not as a First-Year. I marched right into the Great Hall at lunch at held them out to her. _Miss Rosier, you and I ought to be friends,_ I told her, and I gave her the flowers."

"And what happened after that?" breathed Bellatrix. Mr Riddle quirked up half his mouth and hummed,

"She was utterly besotted with me. Couldn't bat her away until sixth year. There was a dance, you see, a Valentine's dance, and she desperately wanted me to ask her to go."

Bellatrix grinned, wildly amused by this tale. Mr Riddle sipped at his wine and met her eyes as he said,

"I insisted that she go with Cygnus Black III, my respectable and dashing… _friend_. Lackey, really. Anyway, the two of them were inseparable after that, and they married a month after graduation."

Bellatrix took a deep draught of her wine and laughed a little. "I like that story."

"That story has a point, you know," he said more seriously. Bellatrix nodded, and he continued, "I will not let anyone harass me, Bellatrix. I didn't let your mother do it, and I won't let Quella Yaxley do it. She may have kicked me out of her Christmas party, but that doesn't mean she wins."

"So how do you… you know, defeat her?" Bellatrix asked. Mr Riddle narrowed his eyes and sipped his wine again. His glass was empty once more, so he set it down. He said,

"I host my own party. One to which she is most certainly invited."

Bellatrix scoffed softly in disbelief. "Are you going to host it here, My Lord?"

"No," he said. "I'll have it at Malfoy Manor. Abraxas will be more than obliging. It will be a party with two purposes. One, to ring in the New Year… and secondly, to celebrate my forty-second birthday."

Bellatrix gasped a little, watching a small smile creep across his lips.

"Yes," he said. "My birthday is on New Year's Eve. And all of the invited guests shall be encouraged to bring birthday gifts to their _old friend,_ Tom Riddle… who, by the way, much prefers the name _Lord Voldemort_ these days."

Bellatrix's heart started to speed up in her chest. She set down her wine and asked,

"Who will be there?"

"Your parents," he said lightly. "They are staunch allies of mine. Your sisters will come with them. The Malfoys, of course. The Avery family. The Notts. Lestrange and his wife and two boys. Augustus Rookwood. The Crabbes. Your Rosier grandparents; they're donors. The Selwyns. And, of course, Yeoman and Quella Yaxley."

Bellatrix grinned like an utter fool as she realised what was happening. He was making a power move. He was going to host a party where people brought him gifts and jostled for position as sycophants to impress him. And he was doing it to show Quella that he was not a man to be kicked out of a Christmas party. He was Lord Voldemort.

"Bella," said Mr Riddle gravely then, "I need you to do some work for me before this party."

"Anything, My Lord," Bellatrix swore. He nodded crisply.

"I want them all just a little in awe at the party, you understand?"

"Another killing," Bellatrix said firmly, and he affirmed,

"You'll do one and I'll do one. Separately, but in the same night. We'll split up, carry out the killings, and meet back here. And when the party happens, the guests will be far more likely to be groveling and whimpering because I will appear to be gaining traction."

Bellatrix gripped at the arm of the chair, feeling excitement build inside her. It coiled it her belly and flushed through her veins, sending a shock of want between her legs. She stared into Voldemort's eyes and said,

"Please get this dress off of me."

An hour later, the two of them lay naked in her bed, staring at the ceiling, spent and panting, and Bellatrix hummed,

"Who shall I kill for you, My Lord?"

"I'll get you a name and a location," he promised. "Tomorrow. I'm too tired tonight. We'll make the Mudbloods disappear soon, and I'll get invitations for the party out as soon as Abraxas agrees to hosting the party."

"What if he doesn't agree?" Bellatrix fretted, and Mr Riddle laughed a little.

"Then I'll Imperius him and have the party anyway."

Bellatrix grinned and looked up at him. "Quella Yaxley had the most extravagant party of the year. How are you going to top it?"

Mr Riddle narrowed his eyes and seemed to consider that question for a moment. Then a broad smile broke out across his face, and he murmured,

"A masquerade."

Bellatrix pushed herself up onto her elbow and laughed a bit at just how ludicrous the idea was. A masked ball? Bellatrix dragged a finger down Mr Riddle's chest and smirked,

"We could wear matching outfits, you and I. I could get a beautiful emerald green gown, and you could have a matching waistcoat, and we could have identical masks, and -"

"Yes." Mr Riddle reached up to hold her face, and Bellatrix's playful smirk disappeared. She stared down at him, for she'd been joking and he seemed quite serious. He nodded and brushed his thumb under her eye. "Yes, I want to be there _together_ with you, Bella. You, my beautiful, intelligent, vicious young soldier… I do not merely want you there on my arm. I want to claim you there in front of all of them."

Bellatrix's eyes welled heavily. Quella Yaxley had kicked him out of her Christmas party because he'd been there with Bellatrix. Now he wanted to attend his own masquerade party in matching ensembles with Bellatrix, in spite of everything. Was he mad? Had he utterly lost his mind?

"Don't you know?" Mr Riddle whispered, and he stroked at Bellatrix's jaw. She sat up a little more and shook her head down at him, unashamed of her nudity. He let out a heavy sigh and blinked. His lips tightened a little, and his eyes flashed a bit oddly. "Don't you realise, Bella?"

"N-No," she admitted. "Realise what, My Lord?"

Mr Riddle heaved himself up to sit, staring at Bellatrix and brushing his knuckles from her shoulder down her arm. She shivered at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. But she forced herself to look at him again, and when she did, she whispered once more,

"Don't I realise what?"

"Don't you realise what you mean to me? How deeply I care for you?" Mr Riddle's voice was so quiet that Bellatrix could hardly hear him speak. He shut his eyes and murmured, "You set my heart to racing. You light a fire in my veins. You rob me of my breath, and you occupy my dreams. You consume my waking thoughts. You make me proud. You make me happy. You make me… Bella, you make me happy, and I…"

He trailed off then, and Bellatrix watched his throat bob. She did not speak. She had nothing good to say. She breathed quickly through dry, parted lips and finally whispered,

"I think I may be falling in love with you, My Lord."

He sucked in air hard then and trailed his fingers down her arm and picked up her fingers. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed her once, twice, three times. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and then sighed, lowering Bellatrix's hand and opening his eyes. He resolutely stared at Bellatrix, his gaze steady and sure, and he nodded once.

"You and I will attend my masquerade in matching emerald green," he said, "and no one will question that you are mine. I will receive gifts from friends who are terribly impressed by the murders you and I will commit, Bellatrix, and at my party, they will clamour for my attention and my affection. And Quella Yaxley, who tried and failed to humiliate us, will watch as we triumph. Do you understand?"

Bellatrix trembled where she sat, and she nodded. She tightened her fingers around Mr Riddle's, and she felt a tear escape her eye and creep down her cheek.

"You are my lord," she told him. "You are my… you are my master."

His eyes flared again, dark and dangerous, and his grip on her hand intensified. They were holding one another tightly now, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I will fight for you until I have nothing left to give. You rescued me from oblivion. You saved me from destruction. And you are leading us all from shadow into light. You are the Dark Lord, and you are my master, and I shall follow you to whatever end my story has written for me. Yes. I am yours. I beg of you, just let me be yours, and I will -"

She had to stop then, for her tears were flowing too heavily to speak properly, and he'd released her hand and taken hold of her cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed her quite carefully, and he beseeched her,

"Tell me again. The truth you spoke to me, Bella; say it again."

"I love you," she hummed. "My Lord. My master."

He kissed her, harder this time, his tongue dragging across her lip and then creeping along the roof of her mouth. He pulled back and panted,

"Again."

She laughed a little and nodded.

"I love you."

This time, when he kissed her, he didn't stop until their lips were bruised and they desperately needed air.

**Author's Note: Whew! So, she's in love with him, and he's… well, he has **_**strong**_ **feelings for her. And he's basically hosting a Revenge Party to get back at Quella Yaxley. Will it work? Oh, but first, we have some more Muggle-borns to eliminate. Hmm… as always, I do so cherish your readership and reviews. Updates over the next few days may be a little slow as it is Memorial Day weekend here in the United States and I will be at our lake house with family. Thank you for your understanding.**


	16. Chapter 16

The last time Bellatrix had carried out this sort of deed for Mr Riddle, she'd done so in blinding sunlight. This time, she did it in the black of night. She'd grown bolder, perhaps, in that she was no longer afraid to cast a Killing Curse in the dark. But she'd also become more cautious. When she'd killed Sable Rowland, Bellatrix had felt like neighbours or passers-by could have easily spotted her and reported her to Muggle police or Aurors. This time, she would not give anyone that chance - especially because her target this time round lived in London.

Bellatrix stalked like a cat down the quiet residential street lined with townhouses, staying in the shadows with her hood pulled up tightly round her face. She glanced up at the houses to her right and traced the descending numbers. 67, 65, 63… 61. Bellatrix stopped walking in front of Number 61, staring up at the stately house. Two Muggles went walking by behind her, chatting animatedly about politics. Bellatrix bowed her head to hide her face, and she waited until they'd passed. Then she pulled out her wand and slowly climbed the stairs of Number 61. It was late. Very late. Joshua Mercy, a middle-aged Muggle-born bachelor who lived alone except for an extensive collection of tropical fish, was inside this house. He should be asleep, Bellatrix thought, though of course he might be up watching a Muggle television or reading the _Daily Prophet _or doing any manner of other late-night endeavours. Bellatrix aimed her wand at his doorknob and braced herself for the break-in.

"_Alohomora,_" she whispered, and when the lock clicked, Bellatrix pushed the door open with her shoulder. It creaked softly, and she breathed with shaking air coming through her nostrils, trying to steady herself. She stepped over the threshold of the house, her wand extended, and she carefully used her boot to shut the front door. She aimed her wand into the parlour to the left, but it was empty. She jabbed her wand forward towards the kitchen, which was snuffed dark by the night. Bellatrix peered up the carpeted stairs and made her way over to them. Just then, she heard a sleepy voice from the landing at the top call out,

"Hullo? Someone there?"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Bellatrix snapped her wand through the air, and when a pale, bumpy wand came soaring down the stairs, she caught it.

"What the blazes?" exclaimed Joshua Mercy. Bellatrix went dashing up the stairs, into the inky darkness where Joshua Mercy was standing. She held her wand out and could just make him out, could just see his form standing there at the top of the stairs in his pyjamas. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and seemed about to try and Disapparate without his wand. He'd Splinch, Bellatrix thought, but he'd know it was worth a try.

"Oh, no, you don't," Bellatrix muttered. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A great flash of jade green light burst forth from her wand, exploding through the air and socking straight into Joshua Mercy's chest. He toppled backward, stumbling a step before her spell felled him like a tree. He slammed against the ground, his face falling sideways. Bellatrix stared at him in the moonlight shining through the window at the end of the upstairs corridor. She heard bubbling, and she looked up to see an elaborate fishtank, glowing just a little, filled with tropical fish of all kinds. Bellatrix had half a mind to shatter the fish tank and send all the water cascading down Joshua Mercy's stairs, but she realised that the fish hadn't done anything wrong. And, anyway, she had orders from the Dark Lord to make this look like another disappearance. It wouldn't do to destroy this man's fish tanks.

Instead, she methodically worked to clean up the mess she'd already made. She Vanished Joshua Mercy's corpse into Non-Being, watching his body dissolve into thin air and staring at the place where he had been. She went into the opened bedroom to her left, from which Joshua seemed to have come. She used Neatening Charms to make his bed, and she set his wand down atop the covers. She Scoured her fingerprints from the wand and sniffed. Now it would look like Joshua Mercy had gone somewhere without his own wand, which would make absolutely no sense to the Aurors who would investigate. She'd been careful not to leave marks on the door, but she Scoured her boot prints from the stairs and carpets. Then she looked around, at all the fish and at the perfectly clean townhouse, and she Disapparated.

When she came to inside her flat, her heart was going a thousand miles an hour. She paced in her sitting room, for Mr Riddle was due to meet her here. She twined her fingers together, having tucked her wand away, and she looked at the clock. One-thirteen. She'd been quick and efficient. She had done her duty for her lord and master. Had she made him proud, she wondered? Had she made him happy? Soon enough there was knocking on her door, and Bellatrix rushed over to open it. Mr Riddle came stalking into the flat, a smirk on his face. He was just as flush with the thrill of killing as she was, Bellatrix thought. She shut the door, and he immediately asked,

"Did you do it? Did you kill Joshua Mercy for me?"

"My Lord, his townhouse is spic and span," Bellatrix said proudly, "and the Mudblood Joshua Mercy is dead."

Mr Riddle smiled rather broadly. "Tomorrow, they'll expect him at work at the _Daily Prophet_, and when he doesn't appear, someone will go to his home. He won't answer the door; people will get worried. Eventually the Aurors will search his home. What will they find, Bella?"

She grinned. "Very hungry fish, My Lord. A wand, sitting forgotten on the neatly-made bed. But no body."

"You are brilliant," he told her, "and I am terribly fond of you. Did you know?"

He bent down and kissed her forehead, and Bellatrix hummed contentedly. "How did things go with Marigold Eisen?"

"She wasn't alone," Mr Riddle whispered. He pulled back, and Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. Mr Riddle laughed, his mirth ringing out as he stalked toward the kitchen. He fetched himself a glass out of Bellatrix's cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. He sipped and told her, "She was in bed with a Muggle man. Naked."

"Oh, no!" Bellatrix giggled a little. "You didn't!"

"Yes, I did." He sipped more water. "Took them both out in the middle of… well, you know. They never saw it coming. Ha. That was… an unintended pun. Anyway, at least they died doing what they loved. Ha!"

Bellatrix was laughing so hard now that her stomach ached, and as she walked into the kitchen, Mr Riddle got her a glass and filled it with water, handing it over. Bellatrix accepted it gratefully, sipping and not realising how thirsty she'd been. Casting Unforgivables did induce rather a serious thirst. She swigged down some more water and mused,

"We are terribly wicked, aren't we? My Lord?"

He licked his lip and set down his glass on the counter.

"I spent years on the Continent learning how to be as wicked as I possibly could," he said. "I never imagined I would find a beautiful young witch to be wicked with me."

He tucked her hair behind her ear, and he leaned down, brushing his lips along her cheekbone. She breathed in the spicy, oceanic scent of him, and she held the front of his robes as she murmured,

"I long for you. All the time."

"Do you?" He pet her hair and moved his lips to hers. He dragged her lip between his teeth and whispered, "Shall I strip these clothes off of you right this minute and -"

"I wish," Bellatrix huffed. He stood up, frowning, apparently quite confused. Bellatrix gulped and shrugged, explaining,

"Bad time of the month, I'm afraid."

"Ah." Mr Riddle twirled her curly hair round his finger and said softly. "Soon, then."

"But there's nothing stopping me from getting on my knees," Bellatrix said, just a little impulsively. Mr Riddle's eyebrows flew up, but he hesitated. She was still holding the front of his robes, and she pulled herself closer as she demanded, "What's the matter, My Lord?"

He looked away, at the glass of water on the counter, and he said in a quiet voice,

"I do not wish to be like one of those men at the Dancing Doxy who shoved themselves down your throat."

"You are nothing like them," Bellatrix insisted. "Nothing at all. And I promise you that I enjoy it with you. All of it."

He still glared at the glass, so Bellatrix finally reached up to carefully hold his jaw and guide his gaze back toward her. When his eyes met hers, she whispered,

"Please, Master, let me do this… _with_ you."

At last, he nodded, and Bellatrix gave him a warm smile. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached between them and began to unbutton his trousers. He sucked in air hard, and Bellatrix said gently,

"I was so happy. Killing that Mudblood for you. I like to do things like that for you."

"Do you?" His teeth sank into his lip, and Bellatrix nodded. She shoved his trousers down a bit, along with his underwear, and his rather enormous cock sprang loose. Bellatrix gripped it at once, coursing her hand up and down the uncut member and dragging her thumb around the tip. She fondled his orbs with easy, slow manipulation of her left fingers, and Mr Riddle's mouth fell open. Bellatrix slowly sank down, going to her knees and staring at the huge length before her. She licked her lips and contemplated that she had never faced down cocks like this at the Doxy. His was in an entirely different league of girth and power. Bellatrix stared up at Mr Riddle and then leaned forward, touching her tongue to the base of his cock. She licked from base to tip, running up the bottom of his length with a smooth, flat tongue. When she reached his tip, she bobbed her head a little, dipping over him and suckling. He groaned, his fingers delving into her curls and squeezing at her scalp. She quite liked the feel of that, and she moaned onto his length. She started pushing onto him, amazed again at his size as she moved forward and back. Her hand trailed her mouth's movements, pumping along his shaft as she used her tongue and throat to give attention to his tip. She sucked him down as deeply as she could and made swallowing motions, dragging him into her throat and desperately trying not to gag. Her eyes watered fiercely, and she felt a bit sick, but she powered through it as he grunted and made strained noises above her. His hands tightened on her scalp, and when Bellatrix released him, he murmured,

"You will be the death of me, doing things like that, Bella."

"Mmph. My Lord." She was extremely aroused now, turned on by all this in a way this activity had never brought her alive. She felt soaking wet between her legs, throbbing heat flushing through her veins. She started to pump her two hands in twisting motions on Mr Riddle's pulsating shaft, and she licked and suckled at his tip. The more insistently she moved, she more desperately he moaned, and his fingers finally went limp against her curls as he whispered,

"I'm going to come."

"Mmm-hmm." Bellatrix plunged him into her mouth again, taking him as deeply as she could. When he did come, she swallowed the bitter, metallic tang quickly. She was practised with this bit, at least. She got it down without complaint and kept massaging his length until he was too sensitive for her to touch. Then she pulled off of him, her lips bruised and swollen, and she cleared her throat. She slowly stood as Mr Riddle tucked himself away, and she drank the rest of her water from her glass on the counter. She pulled out her wand and surreptitiously Freshened her mouth as Mr Riddle buttoned his trousers. He said quietly,

"Well, I'm grateful for that. You didn't have to do that."

"I like doing things for you," Bellatrix said a bit firmly. She waited until he met her eyes, and she nodded. She reached up to push away a bit of his hair that had gone rogue and fallen onto his forehead. His cheeks darkened, and he reached for her wrist. He pulled it to his lips and kissed the inside, whispering,

"If I have nothing and no one else, I have you."

"You have much, My Lord," Bellatrix reminded him. "You have followers. Money. Victims."

He smirked. "What fun we shall have, putting Quella Yaxley in her place at the masquerade. Tomorrow you and I shall get our outfits made at Twillfit and Tattings."

Bellatrix blinked. "We're going shopping together, you and I?"

He cocked up an eyebrow and nodded. "That's what people who are _together_ do. They do things _together_."

Bellatrix grinned. "I'm looking forward to it, My Lord."

**Author's Note: Murder! Sex! Yay! But now these two have to actually host the Revenge Party designed to establish Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort's position of authority. Will that go according to plan? Hmm. Thanks for dealing with my holiday weekend update schedule. The feedback I've received is very much appreciated.**


	17. Chapter 17

Bellatrix walked up the stairs to her parents' house and stood before the door, swallowing past the knot in her throat. She could hear conversation and recorded music from inside, and why not? It was, after all, Christmas Eve.

She cautiously raised her fist and knocked three times. She wasn't meant to be here, she knew. They had told her never to come back. They had told her that she was not their daughter anymore. But Bellatrix had to try. She had wanted to speak with her father at Yaxley House, at the Christmas party, but she'd been kicked out before she'd been given the chance. Now she stood on her parents' stoop with a red-wrapped parcel in her hands, and her winter cloak billowed around her.

The door swung slowly open, and the wizened old House-Elf, Parky, stared up at Bellatrix as if he were hallucinating. His little mouth fell open, and he stammered,

"M-M-Miss Bellatrix."

"I'd like to see my parents, Parky," Bellatrix said in the most solid voice she could muster. But Parky hesitated and said,

"Parky must go ask the Master if he will see you, Miss Bellatrix. Wait here."

Bellatrix scowled, standing on the freezing step with her package in her hands as she shivered. The door was ajar, and she peered inside to see that her family's Christmas tree was decorated with burgundy and gold ornamentation. For some reason, the sight of it made her eyes water. Suddenly, the door flung open, and Cygnus Black III was standing in the doorway. Bellatrix gasped at the sight of her father glaring down at her.

"Father," she said, holding out her parcel. "Happy Christmas."

Cygnus flicked his eyes down to the package in Bellatrix's hands and shook his head.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. Bellatrix gulped.

"I came… to wish you and Mum and Andy and Cissy a happy Christmas," she said. "That's all."

"You've no business coming here and ruining the occasion," Cygnus snapped. "You've no business being here at all. You got yourself expelled from Hogwarts because you could not control your wickedness. Then you disgraced yourself and your family by becoming a filthy whore in Knockturn Alley. And you dare come to my house on Christmas Eve?"

Bellatrix blinked quickly. She pulled back the gift she'd brought and said softly,

"Most of my customers were your friends, Daddy."

"Don't you dare." He snarled and hissed the words at her, looking disgusted. He shook his head and barked, "Get off my steps. I told you never to come to this house again. You are not welcome here."

"Not even for Christmas?" Bellatrix sniffed a little. "I'm with him now, you know. With Lord Voldemort."

"And?" Cygnus shrugged, tossing his hands up into the air. Flurries of snow began to fall round Bellatrix, landing on the box in her hands as her father stared at her and said, "That tosser thinks he's going to be some sort of dictator. Who does he think he is? He's a Half-Blood, raised in a Muggle orphanage. Tom Riddle thought awfully highly of himself when he was bossing us all about at Hogwarts, too, Bellatrix. He's just a man. Just a social climber. All he sees in you is your surname, and little worth that gives you these days."

Bellatrix licked her bottom lip. "No. You'll see. He's going to be great, and you're going to be amazed by him. You're going to wish, a few years from now, that you'd been more respectful to him."

"He's going to wish he'd kept his job at Borgin and Burkes," Cygnus scoffed. "Everybody sees through him these days, Bellatrix, and it's because of you. He's a nobody; he's a Half-Blood who spent his Hogwarts holidays being raised by Muggles. Now he's publicly kissing and parading about a known prostitute. Nobody's afraid of him. Everyone's just laughing."

"That isn't so," Bellatrix said thickly, her throat tight. But Cygnus began to chuckle, and he tipped his head quite condescendingly.

"You really think you've got yourself quite a catch, don't you?" He grinned. "Stupid girl. You never did know much of anything."

"Father." Bellatrix backed up, down a step, and gripped her gift more tightly. Cygnus shut the door quickly, slamming it as his footsteps stalked away inside the house. Bellatrix stared at the shut door for a long moment, and then she realised just what had happened. She let out a shaking breath, which clouded before her in an icy puff. Bellatrix reached into her cloak and pulled out her wand, holding it in a trembling hand. She whirled hard to her right, Disapparating and coming to inside her flat.

An hour later, Bellatrix sat in a wingback chair with a glass of rich red wine, staring at the red-wrapped gift she'd taken to her family home with the intention of giving it to her parents. She sipped at the wine and listened to the Muggle radio as the Christmas Eve broadcast played festive tunes.

"_Christmas Eve will find me where the lovelight gleams. I'll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams._"

Bellatrix shut her eyes and contemplated just how she'd fallen. Once upon a time, she had been a celebrated member of the prestigious House of Black. She had been a good student in Slytherin - a troublemaker, but an achiever of high marks. Now she had been expelled permanently from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for her misbehaviour. She'd sold her body to men who had used and abused her at their leisure. A whore without an education, robbed of her honour and her family. That was who she was.

But Bellatrix opened her eyes and tried to remind herself of what Mr Riddle had given her. She had killed for him. She had Vanished corpses for him. He had kissed her in public. He had taken her to the Leaky Cauldron in front of everyone. He had given her a relationship with a truly impressive man. He had given her purpose. He had given her life meaning again. And her father was wrong; Lord Voldemort was going to be great.

There was knocking on the flat's door, and Bellatrix jolted. She rose and walked over to the door, pulling it open. Mr Riddle was standing there, but he was not smiling. In fact, Bellatrix recognised at once that he was drunk. He was swaying on his feet, and leaned heavily against the wall with one hand. Bellatrix frowned.

"Is something wrong?" she asked without pretense. Mr Riddle blinked slowly.

"Happy Christmas," he mumbled. Bellatrix stepped aside, and Mr Riddle stumbled into the flat. Bellatrix shut the door behind him, and he admitted, "I thought I might Splinch coming here drunk, but… well, it seems that I didn't. So."

He walked with Bellatrix over to her chairs, and he sank into one of them. Bellatrix anxiously perched herself on the edge of her seat cushion, and she watched Mr Riddle's glazed eyes go to the red gift on the low table. He sniffed and asked,

"Your parents wouldn't accept it, then?"

Bellatrix almost asked how he knew what the gift was, but then she flicked her own gaze to the tag on the box that read, _Mother and Father._ Bellatrix pinched her lips and said,

"My father came to the door. He mocked me. Said I had no business being at their house. He said that I'd ruined everything for you, that you were nothing now that you were with me."

Mr Riddle seemed angry. He glared at Bellatrix and narrowed his eyes. "_Legilimens._"

Suddenly the entire interaction between Bellatrix and Cygnus Black III was replaying behind Bellatrix's eyelids. She shut her eyes and turned away until the memory faded and dissolved. She opened her eyes and asked Mr Riddle,

"Why are you drunk, My Lord?"

"Because," he said tightly, "there isn't going to be a party on New Year's Eve. That's why I am drunk."

Bellatrix scowled in confusion. "Whatever do you mean? You didn't send the invitations?"

"I sent the invitations." Mr Riddle drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and tipped his head back. "Abraxas Malfoy requested… erm… insisted upon… a fee of five hundred Galleons of the use of his ballroom to host the party. That was the first red flag."

Bellatrix felt a twisting knot in her stomach. She picked up her wine and swigged. She set the glass back down as Mr Riddle continued,

"Yeoman Yaxley sent a letter in response to the invitation. He stated that… well, it doesn't matter exactly what he said. Suffice it to say that it was hard pass to the party."

"Will you please tell me what he said?" Bellatrix felt dread come over her. Mr Riddle was quiet for a long while. Finally he lowered his face and met Bellatrix's eyes, and he said,

"_As long as you are associated with that whore, I shall have nothing to do with your movement, and I certainly won't be attending any silly costume parties of yours._"

Bellatrix's eyes welled with tears at once. She shook her head and choked out,

"I told you this would happen. I told you that being with me would ruin everything for you. I am poison for your aspirations."

"Stop that," Mr Riddle snapped. "I won't hear that."

"And the others?" Bellatrix prompted him. Mr Riddle just shook his head and said softly,

"There's no party, Bella. There's no… well… I have some work to do on my movement, it seems."

"Oh, no. I have ruined everything." Bellatrix flew to her feet and walked as quickly as she could into the bedroom. She pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and opened the wardrobe, and she began Banishing clothes into her luggage. She dashed into the bathroom, gathering up her toothbrush and toothpaste and other accoutrements. Suddenly Mr Riddle appeared in the doorway, and he demanded,

"What the blazes are you doing?"

"I am leaving," Bellatrix declared. "I have been nothing but trouble for you, and I -"

"Don't you dare talk like that," Mr Riddle barked. "You are the only true soldier I've got right now. You are the only actual loyal follower I've got right now. And beyond all of that, Bellatrix, you say you love me. Now you're going to leave? Where do you intend on going, exactly?"

"The Dancing Doxy." Bellatrix pushed past Mr Riddle and went back into the bedroom. She tossed her toiletries into the suitcase and shut it, clasping it and lifting it off the bed. But Mr Riddle was blocking the bedroom doorway, and he shook his head incredulously.

"The Dancing Bloody Doxy?" he repeated. "You're going to put yourself back into the torture chamber of prostitution? Why? For what?"

"Because," Bellatrix said, almost unable to get the word out through her tears, "my own family has completely disowned me, and I have managed to utterly destroy everything you've worked for just by being near you. So. I need to go away now."

"Bella!" Mr Riddle slapped his hand onto the threshold of the door and snarled in frustration. He stormed toward Bellatrix and seized her face in his hands. "They will learn to accept the sight of you with me. And they will learn to fear and obey me."

"How?" she whispered. "How is that going to happen?"

"It will take time," he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. "I have been climbing for years, Bellatrix. For my whole life, I have been ascending, and I will not stop now. They will learn to see you as I do."

She wondered for a moment just how he saw her, and he must have been in her mind, because he immediately hummed onto her lips,

"I see you as a vicious soldier, a brilliant witch, and I adore you."

"I'm just a whore with no education," Bellatrix told him, echoing her own thoughts from earlier. He kissed her, pressing his lips to hers, and he pulled back.

"I think everybody needs a break," he said. She was confused until he said, "When I left for the Continent, I was just… social climbing Half-Blood orphan Tom Riddle. But when I came back from the Continent, people were intrigued by me. A break had done us all some good. And I think that might be true again. Your family… the Purebloods… let's all give each other some time and space to breathe. Then, when we come back, we'll rebuild. I've got money now, and connections in Paris to get some more."

Bellatrix blinked. "So we're… we'd… leave? Together?"

Mr Riddle quirked up half his mouth and tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear. "How do you feel about ships?"

"Ships?" Bellatrix shook her head, baffled. Mr Riddle cleared his throat and told her,

"Sailing round the world for a while. What do you think?"

Bellatrix sniffled. "A little break. Room to breathe. And then you'll rise again."

He kissed her forehead and murmured onto her skin,

"Someday, they'll be clamouring for an invitation to my parties. Someday, they'll be begging for my attention. Someday, they'll be in awe of you just like I am now. But there is one thing I can guarantee you right this moment, Bellatrix. You are never going to the Dancing Doxy again. Happy Christmas."

**Author's Note: Well, the best-laid plans and all that… so, it looks like wizarding Britain just plain isn't ready for Mr Riddle to be Lord Voldemort yet. And they definitely aren't ready for Bellatrix to be **_**with**_ **him. So maybe a break will do everybody a little good. Now, what exactly does he have in mind when he talks about sailing around the world? Hmm… Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.**


	18. Chapter 18

"I must say," Bellatrix mused as she stood in the cramped cabin, "that when you asked me how I felt about sailing round the world on a ship, I had something… different… in mind."

Mr Riddle smirked. "I'm afraid luxury ocean liners don't sail out of Liverpool in the middle of December. A cargo ship on rough water, headed for New York. That's the best we could manage, really. It'll be cold. Just a little bit brutal."

Bellatrix smirked and nodded at him. "But then, that's us, isn't it? Cold and just a little bit brutal?"

Mr Riddle gave her a warm look. He examined the two bunks against the wall, the little table jutting out from the wall, the caged lamp with its obnoxious electric bulb. He tipped his head and asked Bellatrix,

"You think you'll manage? Aboard the _Blind Rat_ all the way to New York?"

"I'll manage, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She sighed, brushing her fingers over the rough, steel-blue blanket on the top bunk. "I noticed that the Muggle crew is American."

"Yes. They're making a return voyage," he said. "They brought American products for trade in cargo containers across the Atlantic, unloaded them in Liverpool, and now the ship's being loaded back up with British goods for sale in America."

"And they just sail back and forth, over and over, these men?" Bellatrix asked. Mr Riddle quirked up half his mouth and nodded.

"That's their job," he said. "It was easy to counterfeit American Muggle money to pay them for our passage. Even easier than it is to make British Muggle money. I was careful; it should be a good permanent Conjuring, not a temporary Transfiguration."

"Well, good. The last thing we need is our money dissolving into rocks halfway across the Atlantic, and the crew deciding to chuck us overboard," Bellatrix joked. Mr Riddle smiled a little at her and said,

"We'll have to eat with them. With the crew."

Bellatrix shrugged and said again, "I'll manage, My Lord."

"You can't call me that," he insisted, "and you can't call me _Mr Riddle_. Not in front of them. They think we're together, that we're a couple. So we must act like one."

She scowled, dragging her teeth over her lip. "What shall I call you, then?"

"Tom," he said, "just like everyone else has been doing for quite some time now."

"Tom," she repeated. She stepped up to him, shaking her head a little. She pressed her head against his chest, against the ribbed, dark blue jumper he'd put on. She breathed in the smell of the sea on him, and she listened to the hum of the cargo ship's engines starting up. She flicked her eyes up to him and said, "I don't like that name. Not for you."

He smirked and tucked her curls behind her ear. "Beautiful creature. You're the only one who wants to give me titles. But you can't. Not aboard this cargo ship. Here, I am Tom Riddle, and you are Bellatrix Black, and we are stowaways of sorts, bound for New York."

Bellatrix blinked a few times and stepped back. She pulled on the heavy grey peacoat that Mr Riddle had bought for her in a Muggle shop in London. She did up the stylish toggle closures and reached for her dark grey knit cap. She yanked it down over her curls, over her ears, and then she pulled her hood up. Once she had on her black leather gloves, she raised her eyes to Mr Riddle and declared,

"Ready to go above decks… Tom."

He'd put on his own coat, a rather sexy nautical creation of deepest blue wool. His hat, somewhat surprisingly, was a vibrant scarlet shade. He pulled on his own leather gloves and reached for Bellatrix's hand, and then he opened the door of their small cabin. He shut the door behind them and used the brass key they'd been given to lock it. He'd warned her that they must be very careful about using magic aboard this ship. Wands and spells were awfully obvious in close quarters with all these Muggles. So he twisted the key and then tucked it away in the pocket of his coat, and he led the way down the corridor.

It was tight, with cream-painted metallic walls and industrial lights hanging from the ceiling. There were railings along the sides, and Bellatrix knew that was for when the seas got rough. She thought to herself that she was grateful for Nonemesis Charms. If she got seasick, she was sure Mr Riddle would help her out with a surreptitious spell. She followed him until they reached a narrow stairwell, which they climbed as their footsteps echoed in the metallic chamber. The bare steps vibrated beneath Bellatrix's flat boots as the engines revved up, and as they climbed, she could swear the ship had begun to move. She kept going, up and up, wheezing and puffing, until at last she felt a blast of chilled air hit her. She followed Mr Riddle out of an oval-shaped doorway and onto the wooden decking of the covered walkway outside. She gasped, for now it was quite plain that the ship was indeed moving, and they were pulling away from the Liverpool docks. The sun was going down over the shore, and Bellatrix quickly made her way over to the shiny railing.

She gripped the wood there and leaned over just a little, gazing at the churning water below, which was being stirred up by the steering engines. As the ship made its way away from the docks, the water far below them ebbed and shifted, and soon enough there were waves lapping at the side of the ship. The _Blind Rat_ steamed away from Liverpool, out toward open water. The sun descended, the water darkened, and the waves grew. Bellatrix grinned down at the water, and from beside her, Mr Riddle mused,

"You like this. You like the sea."

"I like the change of scenery. I'll admit it." Bellatrix flicked her eyes up to him, struck for a moment by how handsome he looked just now. In the dim light of the setting sun, its warm glow casting fire over his face, his features were sharp and masculine. Even his silly winter hat looked good on him. Bellatrix was bereft of breath, all of a sudden. She shut her eyes and remembered the way he'd come into her room at the Dancing Doxy with a mask on, touching her body and speaking gently to her when everyone else was so horrible.

"Bella," he said quietly, and when she opened her eyes, she knew he'd been inside her head. She watched his throat bob, and he informed her,

"It was the very most attractive thing in the world you could do, you know. Killing Sable Rowland."

She grinned then, for they were a very odd pair. She was a whore who had been rejected by her school and her family. She was a killer. And he liked her. He actually liked her. She reached to cover his gloved hand with hers on the railing, and she stared into his eyes as she asked him,

"What would you have done with me? If I'd said no?"

"If you'd said no?" He tipped his head, apparently confused. She nodded.

"In the Dancing Doxy, you proposed to me the notion that I might work for you, that I might join your movement and do terrible things for you. What if I'd said no?"

His mouth fell open a bit, and he shrugged. "I suppose I very much hoped that you would say yes."

Her eyes watered. "If I had said no, you would be in England right now, with money and followers and -"

"I will not listen to that sort of talk," Mr Riddle said very firmly. He used his left hand to cup Bellatrix's jaw. He bent to brush his lips against hers, and he murmured, "I love you, and the reality is that I do not want a movement that doesn't involve you. None of the rest of them are anything like you. I'll start from the ground up again. There will always be setbacks. Why are you looking at me like I've got three heads?"

Bellatrix's lips had gone dry. She blinked and reached to cover Mr Riddle's hand with hers. He huffed a breath, confused, and then realisation came over his face. He let his hand slowly fall from Bellatrix's cheek, and he gripped the decking rail so tightly that the leather of his gloves creaked. He visibly gulped as he stared out at the sea, and finally he told her over the rush of the waves,

"It just sort of slipped out."

Bellatrix nodded silently. Had he actually meant to tell her that he loved her? Did he mean it? Probably not.

"Of course I mean it," he said, almost harshly. He ripped his gaze off of the horizon and glared at Bellatrix. "Of course I mean it. Do you honestly think I would be on a Muggle cargo ship sailing for New York alone with you right now if I didn't mean it, Bellatrix? I…"

His eyes were strange then, and he turned back out to the sea. He stared for a very long while, and Bellatrix just shivered where she stood. She was afraid of him then, afraid to get too close to him for some reason. He seemed to be crackling with energy. But he finally said to her, in a voice so quiet she could hardly hear him,

"Of course I love you. It's very cold up here. The captain said they've got a library. We should go find it."

* * *

"Everyone was staring at you at dinner."

Bellatrix laughed a little from where she lay on the top bunk. She squirmed a bit on the uncomfortable mattress and felt the ship sway now that they had reached completely open water. She shut her eyes and declared,

"I think it's just a consequence of being the only woman on board a ship the size of a small country. They're going to stare."

"They were staring because you're pretty," Mr Riddle declared from the bunk beneath her, "and I looked into their minds with Legilimency. They were being very lecherous."

Bellatrix giggled a little. "You have nothing to worry about. Promise."

He said nothing, and she opened her eyes and rolled them. She pushed back her blankets and clamoured in her nightgown over to the small ladder. She made her way down and landed with padding feet on the ground. She eyed Mr Riddle in the dim glow of the plug-in night light, and he stared back at her from where he lay.

"I'll bet if we really tried, we could fit two of us on that bunk," she declared. Mr Riddle smirked a bit but peeled back the blankets. Bellatrix climbed into the berth with him, snuggling up along his body. She curled a leg over his hips and put an arm across his chest. She didn't sense any burning want from him. Not right now. What she did sense was contentment. He liked to hold her. She knew that. He wanted to hold her right now. That was obvious by the way he wrapped his arm round her and drew her as close as possible. She kissed the bare skin of his chest and hummed onto his flesh,

"I was staring at _you_ at dinner."

He let out a low rumble of a laugh. "Were you watching me eat my roast beef?"

"I like to watch you do all sorts of things." Bellatrix breathed him in, the warmth of him, and shut her eyes. For some reason, her thoughts took her back to the Dancing Doxy. She wasn't sure why, but her mind began to replay an awful night, when she'd been made to take a wizard up her backside. She'd been sore the next day; it had been awful. Bellatrix winced against Mr Riddle's chest, her eyes burning.

"It's over," he whispered, his fingers gently snaring in her curls. "I won't ever let anyone hurt you like that again."

Bellatrix pushed herself onto an elbow and looked down at him. "When will I get to do it again?"

"Do what?" He slowly twirled her hair around his finger, and she sniffed a little.

"Kill somebody for you."

He smiled a bit. "Bloodthirsty little thing. Hmm. Perhaps I might let you have a little more practise in New York. I hear they've got loads of Muggles in New York."

Bellatrix scoffed. "What, just some random person off the street?"

"Are you growing a conscience, Bella?" Mr Riddle's brows flew up, and Bellatrix shook her head quite sternly.

"No," she said as he played with her hair. "I'm your very best soldier, aren't I? I need loads of combat training. Practise with a Muggle in New York would be good for me, I think."

His lips curled up a little, and he nodded. "Lie down and get some rest. They rise early on ships."

She settled back down against him, but when she shut her eyes again, all she could see and hear were the grunting, groaning, puffing men who had hovered above her or slammed into her from behind. Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to see any of it, tried not to relive it. It didn't work. She couldn't escape it. Finally she heard Mr Riddle say, so gently that she could hardly breathe,

"Shall I give you good dreams, Bella?"

"How… how do you mean to do that?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion. She felt him petting her hair, and his voice was soft and calm as he told her,

"I want you to think of a beautiful forest. Green and lovely… warm. Pleasant. Freshly damp from a summer rain."

Bellatrix took a long breath. She could see the forest in her mind, the one he was painting for her. He continued,

"You and I are walking the forest, our boots crunching on the leaves, snapping twigs now and then. We come to a creek, and you're so graceful as you cross it atop a felled log. Me, I am not so graceful. But I try."

Bellatrix smiled a little, all the terrible images gone from her mind. Sleep was coming for her now, enveloping her and wrapping her in an embrace. The last thing she heard Mr Riddle say before she drifted off were words of beautiful comfort, describing dappled sunlight on the forest floor. As she lost herself to fatigue and the ship's swaying and the feel of his arms, one throbbing thought reverberated from Bellatrix's chest to her mind and back again.

She really did love him for all she was worth.

**Author's Note: Raise your hand if you didn't exactly imagine their cruise around the world happening aboard a cargo ship! Ha! This isn't the **_**Queen Mary**_**. What will she do in New York? Hmm. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. I am so grateful for feedback. It really does make my day.**


	19. Chapter 19

"And they say that pretty soon they'll have guys up there, walking around."

One sailor whistled in disbelief as he spooned himself some mashed potato, and another, a skinny young man with freckles who called himself Michael, said,

"I'll believe it when I see it. Men on the Moon. Sure."

"Is it really possible?" Bellatrix asked hesitantly, poking her fork at her meatloaf. The American men sitting on the benches at the table stared at her, and she clarified, "To send people all the way through outer space and land them on the Moon… I just can't conceive of such a thing."

She felt Mr Riddle squeeze at the fingers of her left hand, and she realised she was giving away too much about their separation from the Muggle world. She took a bite of meatloaf and a sip of dark beer, watching the liquid sway as the ship moved in the sea. Mr Riddle had put Nonemesis Charms upon her to help stave off motion sickness, and for that she was grateful.

"Can't believe it's New Year's Eve," said Michael. Bellatrix pinched her lips. She hadn't had time before leaving Liverpool to get Mr Riddle a proper birthday gift, and she couldn't get a cake for him aboard the ship. Furthermore, he'd strictly prohibited her from mentioning his birthday to the sailors. He didn't want the Muggles gathering him up for birthday embraces, he'd said. Bellatrix rather angrily took a bite of mashed potato and felt Mr Riddle's fingers tighten round hers before releasing her. She sipped her beer again and heard Michael ask,

"What's your New Year's resolution, Steve? Paddy?"

"I'm gonna finally get the balls to ask Sharon to marry me," Steve announced, and all the others started ribbing him, patting his back and groaning with feigned annoyance.

"I'm going to stop sailing this year and buy a place in Brooklyn," said Paddy, raising his glass. "To Brooklyn!"

"To Brooklyn!" cried a few of the others. Bellatrix smirked, taking a few more bites of food and then deciding she was finished. She nearly pulled her wand out to Vanish the remnants of the food, but then she remembered how important it was to keep their magic secret.

"How about you two?" Michael, the young man with freckles, sipped his own beer and turned to Bellatrix and Mr Riddle. "New Year's resolutions?"

"I intend on strengthening relationships," said Mr Riddle at once. "All sorts of relationships. It's very important to me in the coming year to forge in iron the bonds I've got with people."

Everybody went quiet at that, for he was so much more weighty and serious than the rest of them. Bellatrix dissolved the tension by declaring,

"I'm going to lose five pounds by March!"

"Lose five pounds?" repeated Mr Riddle incredulously.

"Pretty sure if you lost five pounds, you'd drift right over the edge of the deck and float away," grinned Michael. "You're perfectly fine the way you are."

"Oh, well, thanks, Michael." Bellatrix smiled at him, giving a self-conscious shrug. "Perhaps I'll aim for some muscle instead."

"Hey, Steve!" called a bearded sailor from down the table, "why don't you get out your guitar? How about some music for New Year's Eve, huh?"

"Yeah!" called the others with a roar of approval. Everyone quickly finished eating and cleared their metal plates, and they took their beers out of the dining room and into the crew lounge. It was a white-walled room with caged sconces on the walls and a series of large portholes that looked out over the churning black sea. There was a small sofa, and two burly sailors quickly claimed the spots. Bellatrix didn't say anything about chivalry. She joined Mr Riddle in leaning against the wall with the others, watching as Steve opened a black guitar case.

"What'll it be, boys?" Steve called. "Taking requests."

"Beach Boys! 'Good Vibrations'!" called a voice above the din of shouted song titles. Steve jabbed his finger at the sailor who had yelled.

"Yes! Beach Boys! Here we go!"

Bellatrix watched in wonder as Steve struggled to play through the piece that was clearly intended for very different orchestration and vocalization. The other sailors giggled like schoolboys and sang along raucously. When at last the song was finished, Steve took the strap of the guitar off over his head and held out the instrument.

"Okay!" he said. "Who's next? I wanna know who's a secret guitar genius!"

Everyone laughed, including Bellatrix, until Mr Riddle took a few steps forward and silently took the guitar out of Steve's hands. Steve stared in wonder as the stoic, mysterious stranger wrapped the guitar strap over his head and adjusted his hold of the guitar. He tuned it up a bit more, perfecting the relation of the strings to one another. Bellatrix's jaw dropped. He could play the guitar? Surely not.

"Play some Beatles!" exclaimed Paddy the sailor. Bellatrix blinked. She didn't know what Beatles meant. She assumed Mr Riddle didn't, either, but then he flicked his eyes to Paddy and suggested,

"'Blackbird? I've only heard it a few times; I'll have to make the guitar up as I go."

The others were quiet in wonder then, all of them seemingly very curious as to what Mr Riddle was going to do. Was he bluffing? Could he really play the guitar? Did he actually know that song, 'Blackbird'? Suddenly he started playing chords, and then his fingers moved swiftly, expertly round the guitar, pressing down the strings and plucking at them. Bellatrix pulled off the wall to stand upright, her heart racing and her stomach fluttering. He found her eyes and curled up his lips a little, and she almost fainted. Then he did her in. He sang, his voice and the guitar the only sounds in the quiet crew lounge.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise._"

Bellatrix walked toward him. She couldn't help it. She stared at his fingers, then up at his moving lips, and her chest ached. Her eyes burned. She approached him, and he found her eyes again. He seemed to be singing straight at her, his voice wondrous.

"_Blackbird fly, blackbird fly. Into the light of the dark black night._"

When at last he'd finished the song, The sailors broke into wild applause, and Michael walked up alongside Bellatrix. He leaned in close to her whilst the others applauded, and he murmured,

"You didn't tell us your boyfriend was such a good musician."

"I had no idea," Bellatrix breathed.

"More Beatles!" cried somebody. "'Hey Jude!'"

Bellatrix eyes burned so badly now that she thought she would cry. She knew that song. That one, of all their Muggle music, she did know. It had been playing on the radio the first day that Mr Riddle had brought her into the flat he'd gotten for her. The day he'd rescued her from the Dancing Doxy, 'Hey Jude' had been playing on the Muggle radio, and they'd danced to it. They'd swayed and stared at one another, and she'd fallen hard for him in that moment. Now she gazed into his eyes and watched half his mouth quirk up. He began to play the guitar again, and more applause broke out when he began to sing,

"_Hey, Jude… don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better…"_

This piece quickly turned into a singalong. The sailors gathered up, off the walls and sofa, clutching their beers and swaying as they sang along to Mr Riddle's guitar playing. They were joyous and enthusiastic. It was contagious; Bellatrix could not help but grin as she walked toward the circle that was forming round Mr Riddle. She stared at him as the sailors happily sang, some off-key and others bellowing with glee. Mr Riddle somehow kept his chords and arpeggios going just so, and he sang along with them. Bellatrix didn't know the words, so she just smiled and stared. She felt Michael sidle up alongside her again, nudging her with his elbow and encouraging her to sway.

"_So, let it out, and let it in. Hey, Jude, begin. You're waiting for someone to perform with. And don't you know that it's just you. Hey, Jude, you do. The movement you need is on your shoulder."_

Michael actually squeezed at Bellatrix's shoulder then, playfully and innocently, and winked at her. She laughed and shook her head. Suddenly the song broke into a new bit, and everyone was jumping and swaying as though they were at some sort of raucous party. Mr Riddle moved with his guitar with significantly more force, laughing a little as the group broke into a chorus.

"_Na na na na na na na, na na na na, hey, Jude!_"

Bellatrix giggled and spun round, her peasant skirt whirling. When at last the song ended, there were whoops and hollers of satisfaction, and Bellatrix was red-cheeked with happiness. She caught a glimpse of Michael grinning widely at her, and she nodded back. She found Mr Riddle's eyes and saw him peeling the guitar off of his body, wordlessly handing it back to Steve, the large man who had given it to him in the first place.

"Oh, come on! You have to play all night!" exclaimed one of the sailors. "Or, at least, until midnight."

"I prefer to celebrate the new year in our quarters, but I do thank you kindly for the good time," said Mr Riddle. Steve put the guitar back on and started strumming up a new song. People sipped their beer and chatted. Mr Riddle gave Bellatrix a serious look, and she frowned. She sensed that he wanted to leave, so she cleared her throat and grabbed her gloves and pea coat from the hook by the door. She called over her shoulder,

"Happy New Year!"

"Night! Bye!" called the others, and as Bellatrix left the crew lounge, she could feel Mr Riddle following close behind her. She was halfway to the stairwell, about to open her mouth to speak, when she heard a voice cry,

"Bellatrix!"  
She whirled around to see Michael, the freckled young sailor, come dashing down the corridor. He held out Bellatrix's woolen hat to her and said,

"You forgot this."

"Oh. Thank you so very much." Bellatrix flashed him a little smile as he studied her face for a long moment. He flicked his eyes up to Mr Riddle and said,

"Thanks for the music."

"Any time," Mr Riddle said lightly. Michael turned back and trotted off again. Bellatrix waited until he'd gone back into the crew lounge, and she hummed,

"Why didn't you tell me you could play guitar? I had no idea. You were marvelous. You were -"

"He has an absolutely ferocious crush on you. That boy, Michael." Mr Riddle started walking quite briskly toward the stairs. He went down one level, and Bellatrix followed. She walked with him down half a corridor until they reached their cabin. She scowled as Mr Riddle pulled out their key, and she said,

"Well, it doesn't matter. He's just a filthy Muggle. I'm never going to see him again once I get off this ship. And, anyway, I am yours."

"Are you really?" he sniffed a little and pushed open the door. Bellatrix followed him into the cabin, blinking in the darkness until he switched on the electric light. She tossed down her coat, gloves, and hat, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I am your soldier and your servant, _My Lord_," she said quite meaningfully, "and I am _together_ with you. I thought we had established all of that."

He stared right at her and gulped. "I learnt to play guitar on the Continent. It's just something I picked up in Spain."

"Well, I think it's dreadfully attractive," Bellatrix told him, "and to be that sexy on your birthday, no less. I feel terrible. I've no gift for you."

"Well, that's not true," he said, and Bellatrix frowned in confusion. Mr Riddle walked up to her and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'll bet if we try very hard, we can both fit on that bottom bunk, Bella, and have a bit of fun. For my birthday."

She smirked and nodded. "And then, when we get to New York, I shall be just a little murderous… for the sake of your movement."

"Yes." He leaned down and kissed her, seeming to breathe her in. She put a hand on each of his cheeks and assured him,

"I could never want some silly, stupid Muggle boy when I've got a delectably powerful, sexy wizard like you, My Lord."

"Is that so?" he backed her toward the berth, and she nodded as she landed with an _oof_ on the thin mattress and whispered up to him,

"Happy birthday."

**Author's Note: Tom Riddle playing acoustic covers of The Beatles? Sign me up, right? Ha. I had to. As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Promise that New York Murdering is coming up next.**


	20. Chapter 20

"And do you have any agricultural items to declare?" asked the Muggle customs officers. "Any fruits, vegetables, meat…?"

"No. Nothing of the sort," Mr Riddle assured him. He passed over his and Bellatrix's forged British passports, and the Muggle looked them over. Suddenly a tall woman with blonde hair parted down the middle came springing up alongside the customs official, and she said in a cheery voice,

"Hey, Dave, these two have been selected for additional screening. Mind if I…?"

"No. By all means." Dave, the Muggle man, shut the passport he was holding and gave both of them back to Mr Riddle, who frowned at Bellatrix and then at the blonde woman who had come dashing up.

"If you'll just follow me this way to Room B," said the woman, a grin painted on her face, "we just need to have a quick chat and you can be on your way."

Bellatrix scowled. She walked with Mr Riddle, following the blonde woman past the customs inspection points and to a drab brown wall with ugly paper on it. As the woman pulled out an industrial-looking keyring and selected a key to open the door, she said merrily,

"My name's Shirley Kennedy. And you are?"

"Erm… I'm Tom Riddle, and this is Bellatrix Black," said Mr Riddle, his voice tight. Bellatrix gnawed her lip as Shirley Kennedy opened the door. She finally found the wherewithal to note,

"Kennedy. That's quite a weighty name to have in America these days."

"Yeah." Shirley showed them in and shut the door, and then she said quite meaningfully, "The No-Majs definitely have some big-time figures with the name Kennedy. Or, at least, they did, until some other No-Majs shot them dead with guns."

"You're a witch," Bellatrix breathed.

"She's from MACUSA," said Mr Riddle, and Shirley's eyebrows went up.

"A Legilimens? My, my. We're all showing our true colours, aren't we? I found you through my MagiScope - just patented last year, super useful for picking out magical ability in a crowd." Shirley Kennedy plucked a little brass device out of her pocket and then tucked it away again. "Ever since the repeal of Rappaport's Law in 1965, MACUSA's been working closely with the No-Maj Port Authority to screen incoming ship passengers. It's important to us to make sure that everyone who enters America has registered their wand properly and everything, so…"

"Wand registration?" Bellatrix's voice was quiet, and she saw Mr Riddle shut his eyes, as though he were just now realising they were not going to escape something he thought they'd sidestep. Bellatrix's stomach sank.

"I take it by your reaction that you didn't fill out and send in a wand registration form ahead of your visit," Shirley Kennedy said. Mr Riddle cleared his throat.

"New York is but a very brief visit on a very long voyage."

"Oh. Where're you going?" asked Shirley lightly.

"We don't really know yet," Bellatrix answered. Shirley looked a little suspicious, but she walked around to the far side of the desk and rifled through some dark purple folders, pulling out some forms. She took two self-inking quills from a cylinder on her desk, and she insisted,

"Please, sit. You can fill the forms out here."

Bellatrix hesitantly sat beside Mr Riddle. When Shirley presented her with the wand registration form, she put in her name, the address of her flat in London, her age, the specifics of her wand… she struggled for a moment with _occupation_ and finally settled on _personal assistant._ Mr Riddle had referred to her that way to her mother one time, as his personal assistant. The form also asked for the five spells most commonly used, and Bellatrix struggled there, too. But at last she'd filled out the form, and she could see that Mr Riddle had finished his.

"You two married, if you don't mind me asking?" Shirley sniffed. Mr Riddle coughed a little and shook his head, saying simply,

"No, we're not."

"Okay. I can take these and get them to MACUSA right away. Since we've had to do additional customs screening at the Port Authority, I'll just need to do a really quick wand examination. It'll only take a second, and I've got the screening device here."

She held out her hand, and Bellatrix instinctively reached for her wand, gripping it tightly.

"Screening device?"

"Yeah," said Shirley, as though this were nothing. She gestured to a small wand holder behind her, with a wooden base and clear glass prongs. "It reads the wand for any evidence of… you know, Unforgivables. Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curses. If the glass glows green, you're good to go. Got any plans for your short time in New York? I've heard the No-Majs have some really good theatre we can attend now that Rappaport's -"

"This seems a bit silly," interrupted Mr Riddle quietly. "You have our wand registration forms. We've gone through customs. Surely we can be on our way?"

Shirley Kennedy narrowed her eyes and stared right at Mr Riddle. "Is there some reason you don't want your wand examind, sir?"

He shook his head, but she glanced up to the corners of the room, where four small black domes nested against the walls.

"We have Curse Detection technology in here, just so you know," she said. "If an Imperius, Cruciatus, or Killing Curse is cast in this room, the door will seal shut until Aurors arrive. Now, Bellatrix, let's go ahead and examine your wand first, shall we?"

She held out her hand again, but Bellatrix shrank back in her chair. Shirley Kennedy looked afraid all of a sudden. She held both wand registration forms in her hands and crumpled them just a little, demanding,

"What did you guys do in England? Kill somebody?"

Mr Riddle flew to his feet, and for a split second, Bellatrix thought he was going to kill Shirley Kennedy, tripping the Curse Detection devices and trapping them in the room until Aurors came. But he just aimed his wand at Shirley, who vibrated almost violently where she sat. She dropped the wand registration parchments on the desk, and she stared blankly ahead for a moment.

"Vanish the forms, Bella," Mr Riddle commanded. Bellatrix stood quickly, whipping her wand toward the forms and muttering a quick _Evanesco._ They dissolved into thin air, and then Bellatrix realised just what was happening. Mr Riddle was twisting his wand, and Shirley Kennedy's eyes had gone utterly blank. He'd Confounded her into sitting upright and dropping the papers, and now he'd Obliviated her and was altering her memory. Bellatrix stood in awed silence for a long while until at last Mr Riddle lowered his wand and asked in a low hum,

"It's all right if we go, isn't it, Miss Kennedy?"

"Of course it is, Mr Smith. I hope you and Mrs Smith have a great vacation here in New York. Hope that Broadway show is fantastic."

"Thank you ever so much. Come now, Hyacinth," said Mr Riddle, and Bellatrix jolted as she realised he was talking to her. He led her out of Room B, both of them clutching their suitcases. They walked briskly back toward the exit of the Port Authority, back toward the docks, neither of them saying a word. They both knew they couldn't stay in New York. They both knew they had to get aboard a ship and leave America as quickly as possible. It wasn't safe for them here. They had to sail away again.

* * *

They boarded a freighter, smaller than the massive container ship in which they'd crossed the Atlantic, and they sailed for Mexico. It took days to get down the Atlantic coast of America, but with every passing day, the icy winds gave way just a little to slightly less punishing seas. By the time they reached the coastal waters off of Florida, Bellatrix was able to go out on deck without her coat. And by the time they reached Veracruz, in Mexico, it was positively toasty.

"I do not suppose I have been anywhere this pleasant in all my life," Bellatrix mused when they got off the ship. They were walking through a plaza with a colonial church at one end and vendors scattered throughout. It was sunny and warm, and Bellatrix was thirsty. She stared at a little cart peddling plastic cups filled with _agua de jamaica,_ and she wondered what it was. It was dark purple, like wine, and it looked refreshing.

"Hibiscus tea. Want some?" asked Mr Riddle. "I have pesos."

Of course he did. He'd spent hours the night before they'd docked in their cramped cabin, carefully Conjuring Mexican Muggle money. He'd been so tired from the intense magic that he'd slept until they needed to get off the ship. Now Bellatrix smiled at him and said,

"I might like to try it."

She walked up to the cart with him, and he said smoothly,

"_Dos, por favor."_

Bellatrix realised something as he easily made change with the Mexican Muggle behind the cart. He spoke Spanish. He spoke it with ease. As they walked away with their hibiscus tea, Bellatrix marveled up at him,

"Just something you picked up in Spain, is it? Speaking Spanish?"

"Yes, as it happens." He grinned down at her and then sipped his hibiscus tea. He noted, "Their Ministry is far less intrusive, less invasive, here. I think we could get away with you conducting your training just fine here in Veracruz. Tomorrow, you can choose someone. Anyone you like. It'll be good fun."

Bellatrix glanced down to the beach behind them and smirked. Mr Riddle gave her a curious look. Bellatrix started walking toward the beach, and Mr Riddle hurried to keep up with her. She walked all the way down the cobblestone road, across a busy street zipping with cars, and over a sidewalk. Then she began walking on the sand, and as Mr Riddle hustled to catch her, he demanded,

"What are you doing? You've not got a bathing costume on; our suitcases are at the hotel."

"I don't need a bathing costume, My Lord. Just a wand," said Bellatrix. "This will be good fun."

"What are you…" Mr Riddle seemed genuinely confused, until Bellatrix reached a thick palm tree and half hid herself behind it. She pulled out her wand and surreptitiously aimed it at the sea. She chose someone swimming in the waves, a young man frolicking and enjoying himself, and Mr Riddle finally hissed,

"Bella! Here in the open? Are you utterly mad?"

"They'll have absolutely no idea what's happened," Bellatrix insisted.

"Their Ministry will figure it out!" Mr Riddle cried. "Bellatrix, you'll land in their prison for this. Do not throw a Killing Curse across a crowded beach in the middle of the day."

"It'll be fun," Bellatrix grinned. She curled round the far side of the palm tree and laughed, "_Avada -_"

"NO!" bellowed Mr Riddle, and he suddenly snatched Bellatrix's wand out of her hand. He grabbed it so hard that she heard it splinter and snap in his grasp, and as he stepped around her, his jaw dropped. He unfurled his fingers to reveal that Bellatrix's crooked wand was broken, and she gasped in horror.

"My wand! You have broken my wand! Oh! Oh, my… my wand."

He blinked at her. "You almost just landed yourself into Mexican wizarding prison for the rest of your life. Consider yourself lucky that you escaped with nothing but a broken wand."

"You have broken my wand!" she exclaimed again. "How am I meant to do magic now?"

He shook his head mutely and then scoffed. "You are utterly insane."

Bellatrix pinched her lips into a line and swigged down her hibiscus tea. She shrugged. "No matter. I don't need a wand to be a whore; I'm sure they've got loads of whores in Veracruz. I'll earn my own way back to England and get myself a new wand."

"Don't be like that. We'll get you a new wand." Mr Riddle shut his eyes and sighed. He tucked her broken wand into his linen jacket and murmured, "If you had sent green light blasting across this beach, and someone in the water had gone rigid and dead because of you, I guarantee you would have never been free again. I am sorry that I broke your wand. I saved your life."

Bellatrix huffed, feeling very angry for some reason. Then she felt very, very stupid, and for some reason that prompted her to cry. She felt tears trickle out of her eyes, and then she began to sob a bit more vigorously, leaning onto the palm tree. She was a bloody fool, marching down to this beach and impulsively aiming a Killing Curse across the sand. She was a moron, and an idiot, and every other sort of blithering buffoon, to think that was the right way to practise for war. And now her wand, the wand she'd had for six years, was broken. She squeezed her eyes shut and heard a woman's voice ask Mr Riddle,

"_¿Está bien? ¿Su esposa?"_

"_Sí, gracias,"_ said Mr Riddle in return, and the woman plodded off. Bellatrix's voice was thick as she demanded,

"What did she say?"

"She just wanted to know if my wife was all right," said Mr Riddle gently.

"Your wife." Bellatrix let out an ugly snort of a noise and leaned against the tree again. She swiped at her eyes and said, "You didn't correct her."

He shrugged and admitted, "That's not high on my priority list of things to correct people about."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered. "I'm sorry. I should have just done as you said. I should always just do as you say."

"We'll get you a new wand," he promised. "As soon as we possibly can. For now… leave the magic to me, all right? Sun's going down. Let's go get dressed and get some dinner."

**Author's Note: Hoo boy. So, America proved far more hostile than was originally anticipated. And Mexico didn't exactly go… well. How will Bellatrix cope with a broken wand? And who's ready for some Tom Riddle-dominant-comfort lemon? :}**


	21. Chapter 21

"I feel very silly," said Bellatrix as she stared at her Mexican Coca-Cola. She was ignoring her _arroz a la tumbada, _the rice with seafood that was sitting in a bowl before her. Mr Riddle spooned some of his rice and seafood into his mouth and swallowed it.

"Silly?" he repeated. "Because you walked down to the shore?"

Bellatrix nodded. Her eyes welled heavily. She blinked, watching tiny bubbles rise in her Coca-Cola, and she mumbled,

"I have made so many terrible mistakes, My Lord." She shut her eyes against the burn of the tears and continued, "I got myself expelled from school because of mistakes that I made. I got myself caught up in the disgusting world of prostitution because of mistakes that I made. I lost my family because of mistakes that I made. And now I've lost my wand because of a mistake. I am nothing but a horrid little fool, and I deserve nothing but misery."

"Bellatrix." He snapped her name at her, and she raised her eyes to him with a miserable look. He tipped his head and declared, "You are being pathetic. Eat your rice before it gets cold; you won't want lukewarm calamari."

Bellatrix sniffed and forced a few bites of rice into her mouth. It was good; it tasted delicious. She took a drink of Coca-Cola and then asked Mr Riddle,

"Wherever shall I get a new wand?"

"Well," he said, finishing a bite of rice and then setting down his spoon, "Mexican witches and wizards get their wands in Mexico City, I think. But even if we went there, I'd have to translate, and who knows what the quality of their wandmaker is? We can't go back to America, though it's known they've got some of the best wands in the world. No, I think the answer is to go back to England."

"Back to England?" Bellatrix breathed. "Already?"

"We've been gone for weeks and weeks," he scoffed. "In any case, I think you want Ollivander giving you a new wand."

Bellatrix took a bite of rice with seafood and gulped. She hesitated and then said,

"Someone in England will figure out that I've lost my wand. What shall we tell them?"

"Why would we tell them anything?" Mr Riddle demanded. He sipped some more Coca-Cola and then asked softly, "Bella, don't you want to be my soldier?"

"I do. More than anything, I do," she said. He nodded.

"Then you'll be needing a wand. And some self-control."

"Self-control." She huffed. "I have never exactly been an expert when it comes to self-control, I'm afraid. Hexing those Gryffindor girls so impulsively. Storming off to a brothel when I felt I had nowhere else to go. Marching down to a beach and aiming a Killing Curse at a Muggle in the waves. I'm rather a wreck when it comes to self-control."

"Well." Mr Riddle reached for her fingers on the bottle of Coca-Cola, and she shivered when he brushed his knuckles over hers and said, "Perhaps you need someone to help you practise your self-control. Seeing as you haven't got a wand or anything, perhaps we could use your time in the pursuit of… learning to control yourself. Just a little bit."

Bellatrix was breathless then. She flicked her eyes up to him and whispered,

"Perhaps I need someone to control me… Master."

His dark eyes flashed at that. His nostrils flared, and his lips parted a little. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a few notes. He put them on the table and said quite firmly,

"Stand up, Bellatrix."

She gasped a little, realising what was happening. He was going to boss her about. He was going to control her, really and truly. Well, she needed it, after forcing him to break her wand so that she didn't wind up in Mexican wizarding prison for murdering a Muggle in broad daylight. She needed him to control her now. She craved it. She stood from her chair and waited for further instruction.

"Follow me," he snapped, and Bellatrix's heart began to race. She walked two steps behind him out of the restaurant, through the crowd that had gathered in the plaza outside. He led her to a narrow passageway, a cobblestone pedestrian path lined overhead with drying laundry. Bellatrix followed him down the little road, her breath quick in her lungs, and she watched the way he moved. He was smooth, authoritative, his steps broad and easy. She was so attracted to him right now, she thought. She wanted him badly. Did he know? Probably. He was probably in her head, she thought. If he was, she hoped he knew how ferociously she desired him. Didn't he have any idea what he did to her?

"Come, Bella," he sniffed, and Bellatrix followed him through the cobalt blue door over which a sign was hung reading _Hotel Zatera_. Inside the cramped lobby, with its black-and-white tiled floor and its colonial lantern-style chandelier, the Muggle at the desk said politely,

"_Buenas noches. Espero que hayan tenido una agradable cena."_

"_Sí, por supuesto. Buenas noches,_" answered Mr Riddle, and he walked right up the winding tiled stairs. Bellatrix followed after him, her feet padding on the steps whilst his own strides were steady and sure. They reached the first floor of the hotel, and Mr Riddle pulled out his wand from his jacket. Bellatrix knew why. He wasn't going to use a Muggle key to open their door. He was going to use magic. Why? Because he could, that was why.

Bellatrix followed him into the room once he'd unlocked the door. He calmly shut the door behind them and used his wand to flick up the switch on the wall. The electric lamp beside the bed glowed to life, and the small, whitewashed room was bathed in warm light. Bellatrix nervously stood near the foot of the bed and picked at her black peasant skirt, breathing through her teeth as Mr Riddle came near. He stepped right up to her and twirled his wand in his fingers, passing it back and forth between his long digits expertly. Bellatrix realised at once that he was taunting her. Sure enough, he leaned forward and down, putting his lips near her ear, and he murmured,

"You haven't got a wand, have you?"

"No, My Lord," she confirmed, remembering the awful way it had snapped and splintered in his hand when he'd grabbed it away from her. She felt his breath, hot on her skin, coming in long, slow draws, and he said,

"You have no magic. You have no power. You are utterly powerless. Aren't you?"

"M-My Lord…" Bellatrix's eyes fluttered, and she felt dizzy on her feet. He was in control now, wholly and completely. She could feel that to the marrow of her bones. She felt him kiss the skin beneath her ear, and then he whispered,

"Take your clothes off."

He stood up and took a step back. Bellatrix gulped. She stared right into his eyes as she peeled off her black blouse and tossed it onto the chair at the desk along the wall. She unhooked her black cotton bra and stripped it off, and it joined her blouse on the chair. She pushed her peasant skirt down over her hips, along with her black knickers, and then she stood before Mr Riddle, completely naked. He blinked at her, his eyes flicking up and down. She saw his jaw tighten, saw his throat bob, and she smiled just a little. He liked her, she thought. He liked the sight of her.

"Undress me," he snarled roughly, jarring Bellatrix. She nodded and walked over to him with a bowed head. She wordlessly pushed his linen jacket, of the style of a holidaymaking Muggle, off his shoulders. She was careful with it. She would have Banished it to the wardrobe, but she didn't have a wand. Instead, she folded it gently and brought it to the chair where her clothes were. When she returned to Mr Riddle, he was unbuttoning his dark blue cotton shirt. Bellatrix covered his fingers with hers and gave him a pleading look. He was stony and unmoving, but at last he lowered his hands and let her finish the work. She pulled his shirt from his trousers, and she undid the rest of the buttons.

Once he was shirtless, she could not stop herself from dragging her fingers around his torso. She pulled her hands over his chest and stomach. She feathered her touch around his shoulders and ghosted her way down to his fingers. She held his hands for a moment, gazing up at him, and at last she hummed,

"I really do love you, you realise. So very much. My Lord. My Master."

"Bella." He shut his eyes, his face tightening again. "The trousers, as well."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix worked at his belt, her hands shaky and clumsy on the buckle. Finally she opened it and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down with his underwear and freeing his astonishing cock. Mr Riddle stepped out of his Muggle-style boat shoes and his cotton trousers, which Bellatrix folded and put on the chair with the other clothes. She wanted to touch him then, to stroke his cock and feel the dewy drop of arousal that she knew would come from his tip. But she stood before him and just waited for further instruction, and at last he pointed at the bed and licked his lip.

"Lie on your back on the bed."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix scrambled up onto the bed and hurried to arrange herself against the pillows. She watched as Mr Riddle slowly approached, stalking up onto the bed like a panther coming after prey. Soon enough he was hovering over Bellatrix, and he stared down into her eyes as he said in a mocking tone,

"You haven't got a wand. You've got no magic. No power. None at all."

She said nothing to that. She just swallowed. He nodded.

"You lost your strength because you made an impulsive error. But you will learn to be more careful. You _will_ be more careful, Bellatrix. _Gaudens Maxima._"

Bellatrix gasped and arched her back up, shocked by the sudden sock of the orgasm he'd inflicted upon her. Out of nowhere, she'd been hit with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. She was clenching, her ears ringing. Finally, the high dissolved, and she went wide-eyed as she stared up at Mr Riddle.

"You will resist that spell, wand or no wand," he commanded her. "Do not come this time."

"Wh-what?" Bellatrix squirmed where she lay, but Mr Riddle immediately incanted,

"_Gaudens Maxima._"

Bellatrix seethed through clenched teeth, trying to fight off the pulsing pleasure and the heat in her veins. She heard Mr Riddle's voice angrily demand,

"I told you to resist, Bellatrix. Resist! _Gaudens Maxima._"

This time, Bellatrix shut her eyes as tightly as she could and threw up a great invisible wall inside her mind. She blocked the feel of his orgasm the best she could, trying not to perceive the warm, pleasant sensations she'd felt the first two times. Finally, everything got still and quiet, and all Bellatrix could hear was her own breathing. Then, very suddenly, her mouth was being crushed. She was being kissed. Mr Riddle was thrusting his tongue between her lips and dragging it over the roof of her mouth, and she moaned a little. When he pulled away, he smirked.

"Oh, very well done. I daresay you'll make a very fine Occlumens. I think we shall train you in Occlumency just as soon as you've got a wand. Controlling oneself is important, Bellatrix. Self-control is critical. But it is also important to relinquish control sometimes to your master, isn't it? It is important, sometimes, to give yourself to me."

"Yes." Bellatrix wrapped her arms round his shoulders and nodded. "I give myself to you. I do."

She felt him parting her knees with his hands, felt his palm press to her lower abdomen, heard him incant a contraceptive charm, and then she bent her knees and brought them up around him. She felt the tip of his cock press against her entrance, and she tossed her head back. When he pushed in, Bellatrix clutched at the blankets, her hands flying to the quilt and gripping tightly. She felt so filled by him, utterly stuffed, and she curled up against his body to get closer.

"My Lord," she hummed. He started thrusting, and suddenly he shoved her knees down. She was confused until her legs were flat on the blankets. She realised what he meant for them to do, and she arranged herself better. They ground together more closely then, him above her, their pelvises aligned. Bellatrix yelped at the way he was rubbing her clit with his body. She grabbed at his biceps, and she cycled her hips against Mr Riddle's. She felt like she was on the verge of coming again, so close, but then she saw his face twist and warp, and she realised he was finishing. He stilled, and the lack of motion ruined her orgasm. Bellatrix reminded herself that he'd already brought her to completion several times earlier.

"Greedy little beast," he huffed from above her. He pulled out, and Bellatrix grinned as his come leaked all over the inside of her thigh. She collapsed back against the pillows once more and shut her eyes, whispering,

"Thank you, My Lord."

"I'm not finished with you yet," said Mr Riddle. He arranged himself on the pillows beside Bellatrix, and she slid over to make room. He rolled onto his side facing Bellatrix and reminded her, "You know my _thing_, Bella. Don't you?"

Holding her. His _thing_ was holding her. For whatever reason, he derived great pleasure from holding her. Bellatrix let him wrap her up in his arms, and she curled up against his body. She breathed slowly, feeling more calm now somehow than she'd felt before. He stroked at her back, kissed her forehead, and whispered,

"We will get you a new wand."

"Back in England?" Bellatrix sighed. "And will we begin to build your movement again?"

He was quiet for a long moment, but then at last he said, "I will be the powerful Lord Voldemort I am in my dreams. It will come to pass. My patience runs deep. They will turn."

Bellatrix raised her eyes to him and suggested,

"If you want me to leave you there… when we get back to England…"

"No. I do not want that." Mr Riddle stroked her curls. "You are mine. I love you, Bella. I do."

"I should not have gone down to that beach," Bellatrix mused. "I deserved to get my wand broken. But you do not deserve me in England. The shame of me."

"Shame." Mr Riddle stared down at her and shook his head a little. "You are my lieutenant, Bellatrix. I am unashamed."

She moved up a bit and kissed his lips softly, and he held her face as he deepened the kiss. She breathed him in, curling her leg around his hips and drawing them closer together. She mewled onto his lips, kissing him until their lips bruised.

They would go to England. Together. They would get her a new wand. Together. And they would begin his movement afresh… together.

**Author's Note: Whew! Lemony fresh goodness. So they're going back to England after bouncing around the Atlantic. I will warn you that this story is very nearly finished. I appreciate everyone who's read this far (especially with the break in writing) and I am so grateful for all feedback.**


	22. Chapter 22

Bellatrix breathed in the salt air whipping above the waters off the coast of Florida. She stalked down the deck of the _Sheila Mae_, the Irish freighter that was steaming for Cork. Bellatrix and Mr Riddle would Apparate from Ireland back to England, he'd told her. This ship was the best they could do in getting back to England in a timely fashion. And, after all, she needed a wand. She would have to go with him by Side-Along from Ireland, seeing as she had no magic right now. She felt rather empty without a wand. She still felt silly and stupid.

The crew of this ship were all Irish, and the evening before, there had been singing of folk songs with a fiddler as a great volume of dark beer was consumed. Most of the crew who weren't working were resting now, Bellatrix knew. Mr Riddle, too, was sleeping in. She had the deck all to herself.

"Morning," said a voice from behind her. Bellatrix whirled round to see Mr Riddle walking toward her, coming confidently down the deck beneath the lifeboats. He was carrying the guitar she'd convinced him to buy in Veracruz before they'd left. She smirked a little at the sight of him with the instrument. She paused and leaned against the ship's railing, and she watched as he leaned his back against the rail beside her. He brought the strap of the guitar over his head and began tuning up the instrument. He plucked out a slow, Spanish piece that Bellatrix could only just hear over the waves broken by the freighter. She listened for a while, and she sighed.

They would go back to England together, and they would start his movement anew. They would begin his life as Lord Voldemort afresh. And they would do it as a pair. He'd reassured her, over and over, that he wanted to be with her, that he wanted her by his side. She was his first real soldier, he'd reminded her. She was in love with him, and he was in love with her, and she would kill for him again. They would be together through this new start.

Bellatrix raised her eyes as Mr Riddle continued playing, and she licked her lip. She craved him, so very badly. Not just his body - she wanted every bit of who he was. She wanted to belong to him, at the molecular level, and she wanted him to be hers, somehow. Suddenly she had rather a crazed thought. They were aboard a ship. Couldn't the captain of a ship marry them?

"No." Mr Riddle shook his head, and Bellatrix's eyes went wide with shock at the idea that he'd been in her head for those thoughts. But Mr Riddle kept playing a Spanish piece on his guitar, and he told her, "That's an old myth. Muggle ship captains have to be judges or justices of the peace or the like in order to do a marriage ceremony. Anyway, do you honestly think I would let some filthy Muggle bind you to me like that?"

"N-No, My Lord. I suppose not," Bellatrix murmured. She stared out at the sea for a long moment, just listening to his guitar playing. Finally she heard him say, quietly and gently,

"The first thing we shall do when we get back to London is get you a new wand."

"Thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. "I shall be happy to -"

"The second thing we shall do," Mr Riddle barrelled on, "is go to the Ministry of Magic and get married."

Bellatrix sucked in air hard. She kept staring out at the sea, her eyes searing like mad. Eventually, Mr Riddle's Spanish piece ended with a flourish, a plucked arpeggio, and then he moved a bit as he took off his guitar and leaned it up against the wall nearby. He came back to Bellatrix and cleared his throat.

"Do you like to dance?" he asked. Bellatrix fixed her eyes on the horizon and tried not to cry. He had asked her that in the Dancing Doxy. She had answered that she hadn't had much opportunity to dance. He had told her that she liked dancing when he got to do so. She turned at last away from the railing, and Mr Riddle pulled her by the waist away from the edge of the ship. He held her hand and put his hand on her back, and he set them to swaying. Just like she'd done in the Dancing Doxy, Bellatrix protested,

"We haven't got any music right now."

"No, we haven't. That's all right." He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. They both remembered what had come next in that conversation in the brothel. She'd asked him if he would come back sometime, and he'd promised to return soon. Now he kissed Bellatrix quite carefully and whispered, "I shall never leave you, and you shall be mine forever, and we shall be very happy, I think."

"Married?" Bellatrix hummed the word against his lips as they danced without music. He just nodded. Bellatrix grinned. She would get a new wand. They would become one another's forever. And then they would start his movement again, and they would truly make him Lord Voldemort.

They would do it together.

_**The End**_

**A/N: Well! Thank you if you came back to this story after its hiatus. I hope that it turned out to be satisfactory. I will be beginning a new Bellamort story entitled **_**Blue Eyes and Brown. **_**I hope you will follow me there. Thank you ever so much for reading.**


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